Awakenings
by kytheria
Summary: At age 20, Miaka Yuuki, the former Priestess of Suzaku and savior of the Empire of Konan in the Universe of the Four Gods, made the biggest mistake of her young life.  She told her psychologist about the Book.  Eventual MiakaTasuki
1. Chapter 1

_Anti-Litigation Charm: If you recognize it, I don't own it. :)_

_A/N: This story ignores anything after the original series. This means the OVA's never happened in my universe. This is my first FY fanfiction, and I'm running on memory, so con-crit is welcomed but please be kind. :) I don't have a beta, so all errors are my own. (I'm really bad at proofing my own stuff, so if there's any glaring mistakes, please let me know.)_

At age 15, Miaka Yuuki entered a book, fell in love, was betrayed by the friend she held above all others, saved a world, and became a hero. The friendship was repaired, and the optimistic, if immature, girl achieved a better understanding of human nature and the world around her. Unfortunately, her hard-won knowledge wasn't applicable to her school entrance exams, which she, as predicted by aforementioned friend Yui Hongo, failed spectacularly.

At age 16, she threw herself into her studies, kept a watchful eye out for Tamahome, whom she hoped to meet again, signed up for self-defense courses, and tried to teach herself to cook. Five fire department visits, a well-meaning suggestion from a friendly but increasingly desperate Fire Inspector, and three scorched sets of pans later, she gave up on cooking and decided on music lessons instead. To everyone's surprise (and most of all her own), Miaka proved to have a natural talent for song composition. She based many of her songs on the adventures and emotions she'd experienced while in Konan. After all, it seemed like the perfect outlet.

At age 17, Miaka was beginning to wonder if she was going to see Tamahome again. Her boundless optimism, it seemed, was beginning to reach a limit. She began to improve in her self-defense courses, slowly overcoming a good deal of her natural clumsiness. She dreamed of them almost nightly, of Chichiri, Hotohori, Tasuki, Nuriko, and of Tamahome, and tried not to panic when their images became fuzzy around the edges. She feared the night she would not be able to fully recall all the planes and shadows of her beloved's face. She began to keep a journal, recording every detail she could remember of her time in the Universe of the Four Gods. Her studies started to slip and when she entered her last year of school she was barely passing her courses.

At age 18, Miaka Yuuki graduated without honors. Her bother Keisuke and his new classmate, Taka Sukunami, lost their lives when the taxi they were riding in was involved in an accident. Miaka was devastated by the loss of her brother and did not attend either memorial service. She spent her evenings staring up at the stars, her eyes tracing the celestial constellations of her seishi, wanting but not expecting to see anything that would indicate their well-being. She no longer scanned the faces of everyone she passed on the city's busy streets, waiting for a spark of recognition. She continued to work at defense, more out of habit than any desire to become self-reliant. Her heart poured out in her journal and her music. She tried to draw a picture of her seishi all together but the attempt ended in tears when she realized she could no longer remember whether Chichiri's scar extended past his eyebrow. That night, when she dreamed, the faces of her dear friends were gaping black holes, and she woke up trembling.

At age 19, Miaka was almost completely cut off from her concerned friends and family. Only Yui could get through to the former Suzaku no Miko, and even then, only occasionally. Miaka's mother, concerned for her daughter's mental and emotional well-being, sent her to a psychologist. At first she tried denying that anything was wrong, but finally, increasing apathy won out.

At age 20, Miaka Yuuki, the former Priestess of Suzaku and savior of the Empire of Konan in the Universe of the Four Gods, made the biggest mistake of her young life. She told her psychologist about the Book.

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_Delusional disorder_, the doctors had whispered to Mrs. Yuuki. _Polythematic megalomania_. _Psychopathological conditions. So sorry. Requires medications, therapy, treatments. Lifelong disorder._

Mrs. Yuuki sobbed but signed the consent forms with a shaking hand.

The first round of treatments were administered within a day of Miaka's admittance to Tokyo's top mental health facility. A jaded doctor asked a few questions, murmured "_mmmmhmmm_" a few times, and scribbled a quick prescription inside the brand new file of Yuuki, Miaka, patient #81371.

The medications (small, blue, scored) caused Miaka's appetite to vanish. She lost ten pounds before another white-coated doctor made a change in the dosing. The new meds (yellow, caplets) made her so fuzzy that she did little more than sleep. A third doctor was called in; another change was made, and with the flat white tablets came the hallucinations.

Miaka was happier than she had been in years when she saw her brother and her seishi before her once more. She politely introduced Hotohori, former Emperor of the Konan Empire, to the team of doctors who made the rounds every morning. The doctors furrowed their brows in confusion and alarm, and the flat white tablets no longer appeared in the paper cups that delivered Miaka's morning cocktails.

The finest doctors in Japan were called in to advise on Patient #81371's case. A parade of medications followed as the bewildered medical staff tried their best to stabilize the young woman's condition. Slender and tan made her cry all day. Large, green, and coated made her psychotic. Tiny, yellow, and bitter caused seizures.

Two weeks after Miaka's 23 birthday, the medical team, at a complete loss, started electroconvulsive therapy.

Luckily, the doctor administering the procedure was intent on the readings being shown on one of the computerized screens, and thus missed seeing the faint red light that surrounded the patient briefly before fading out again.

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There were fourteen different meditation pools in the Imperial gardens of Konan, but this one had always been his favorite. It was far enough away from the everyday bustle of the palace that there was a measure of tranquility, but not so far that he would miss a cry for help. Not that he expected such a thing, but the events of the war twelve years earlier had altered certain behaviors in anyone who had lived through them. Kneeling comfortably beside the still water, Chichiri, lost deep in his mid-day meditations, was almost knocked flat by a jolt of... something... coursing through his body. His abrupt movements disturbed several songbirds, who had been nesting in a nearby tree, and they shot up into the sky with an indignant cry. Chichiri scrambled to his feet, reaching for his shakujō with one hand, but before he could recover, the mark on his knee, dormant for so long, flared to life. He caught his breath and the light pouring forth flashed out as if it had never existed.

Eyes wide, heart pounding, the monk grabbed his kasa and was gone before the rushing of wings faded into silence.

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The bundle of straw, tied strategically to resemble a person, didn't stand a chance.

"REKKA SHIN'EN!" The cry rang out along the previously peaceful mountainside as flames shot out, roaring forward, rolling and licking down a controlled path, straight for the intended target. The straw crackled a few times before the fire dissipated with a slow hiss. One blackened "arm" plopped to the earth below.

Enthusiastic applause greeted the pyrotechnic show. The bandits of Mt. Reikaku never failed to be impressed, no matter how many times they witnessed the tessen's power. Tasuki secretly thought they were just happy to have the flames directed at something other than themselves.

He glanced over his shoulder at the group of bandits and grinned. "Ya ain't seen nothin', men. Hey Kouji, get yer ass over here! I've been practicin' this for a while and I need a volunteer."

Kouji gulped, but bravely moved forward. The last time he had "assisted" the boss with one of his flamboyant practice sessions, his hair had been all but singed away and the smell of smoke had clung to him for the better part of a week. And then there was that time where it had taken four whole months to re-grow his eyebrows...

But whatever. Tasuki was certain he had it down this time. He had continued to practice with the tessen and his control of the flames was something breathtaking to watch, as if they were an extension of the flame-haired seishi himself. He directed Kouji forward and waved the tessen to the left until his friend was perfectly positioned. Tasuki's amber eyes narrowed as he called forth his target, and his arm arced down with his seishi speed.

Several things happened at once. Tasuki's cry of "REKKA SHIN'EN!" reverberated through the target clearing as the Wing symbol on his forearm appeared, sending blinding red light in all directions. Tasuki brought his arm up to shield his eyes, spitting curses, and the flames from the tessen hurled themselves forward, undirected. Kouji threw himself forward onto the ground. The flames roared harmlessly over his head.

As abruptly as it had come, the light was gone. "...the fuck was _that_?" Tasuki exclaimed, as Kouji spit out a mouthful of earth. The redhead jerked his arm around to stare at the dormant mark, bewildered. It took a moment for his mind to wrap around what had happened, before he realized what the appearance of his seishi mark must mean.

"Miaka!" the name left his lips in a rush of breath. His fingers, unbidden, sought out a small scrap of material in his pocket before he turned and bolted. He was halfway down the mountain when he was knocked to his feet by something unexpectedly solid.

"Hey! Get the eff off of me, damn it!" the bandit yelped, untangling his limbs from those of the only other remaining Suzaku warrior.

"Sorry, no da," said Chichiri, dusting off his kesa with quick, agitated strokes, "but something important has happened."

"I know," Tasuki replied grimly. "I saw it too."

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As he stepped out of the portal Chichiri had provided, Mount Taikyoku appeared as majestic as ever, but the bandit was too agitated to care. His thought were swirling around, trying to make sense of the appearance of his seishi mark for the first time in almost twelve years. He remembered his Miko, with her otherworldly clothes and dumpling hair, eyes like green pools one could fall into, her giving nature and selfless heart. He remembered how it felt to be willing to die for something, for someone, greater than himself. He remembered fighting back-to-back with his brother warriors, the cries of battle, the scent of charred wood and flesh and ozone heavy in the air, and he was overcome with a sense of loss so profound that the years separating those events fell away in an instant. _Damn it, not now_, he thought, bowing his head and biting the inside of his cheek to stop the grief and rage at their deaths from ripping through him. He heard Chichiri climb out of the kasa and turned away slightly, not wanting his friend to see how badly shaken he was by the events of the morning.

He had almost gotten his emotions back under reign when suddenly his vision was filled with the most hideous sight. With the face of a bloodhound, Taiitsukun winked into existence, hovering not ten inches away from where Tasuki stood. "Arrrugh!" he screeched, scrambling away, his heart in his throat. "What'd ya go and do that for, ya old bat!"

"Tasuki!" Chichiri admonished him.

The bandit shrugged. "She coulda given me a little space, ya know? There's no call for sneakin' up on someone like that." He tried to avoid Taiitsukun's steady gaze, but felt himself begin to fidget. "Aww, hell. Sorry, Taiitsukun," he muttered, tracing a line in the dust with the toe of his boot.

Taiitsukun waved away his apology with a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand. "It is good you are here, Suzaku no seishi."

"Did you feel the disturbance too, no da? Chichiri inquired

"I did," Taiitsukun answered, floating forward, and motioned the seishi to follow. She refused to say more until they were inside and seated comfortably.

Tasuki felt like he was about to explode. He shifted on his cushion and finally blurted out, "So what the hell is goin' on? Is Miaka and Tamahome ok?"

Taiitsukun gave him a steely glare. "I believe it does have to do with Miaka, yes, and no, I would not say she is fine. I have come to understand that she is being held, against her will, and being subjected to unconscionable tortures."

Tasuki jumped to his feet, ignoring the way Chichiri was tugging on his tunic to get him to sit down. His hands were balled into shaking fists, and god, he wanted to hit someone- something- _anything_. "What're they doin' to her?"

Taiitsukun let out a short, humorless laugh. "They have harnessed the power of the lightening and have used it on her body and mind."

A wave of nausea washed through Tasuki at the thought. He stumbled backward, stunned, as Chichiri whispered "_Suzaku_!" Whether it was a curse or a plea, Tasuki didn't know.

"Why?" Chichiri ground out. "Why would someone want to hurt Miaka? Suzaku's already been summoned, no da."

Taiitsukun eyed the monk as if considering how much to tell. Finally, she spoke. "They are convinced that she is... unstable. The inhabitants of Miaka's world do not believe in magic, in the power of the Gods... or in the Universe of the Four Gods. When she spoke of this world to those in hers, the healers in her world did not, could not, believe her."

"Miaka ain't fucking crazy!" Tasuki burst out. "We need'ta get her out of there!" Chichiri was nodding in agreement.

"I know that," Taiitsukun snapped, before resuming her usual demeanor. Tasuki could tell she had been badly shaken as well by the knowledge she was imparting, so he took a deep breath and settled back on his cushion, although it cost him. He wanted to run through Miaka's world, blasting everything in his path, until he found her and got her the hell _out_ of there. Never mind that Suzaku had already been summoned and technically, his duty was done. But Taiitsukun was speaking again, so Tasuki forced his anger back to a simmer and tried to pay attention.

"Although I have resolved not to interfere with the world Miaka resides in, she is beloved of Suzaku, and such a travesty can not be overlooked. Nyan-Nyan and I are seeking a way to allow you through the boundary between her world and this one. In the meantime, I ask that you prepare yourselves. The journey is likely to be arduous and Miaka's world is nothing like your own. Now go, and leave me to consider what is to be done."

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"I don't get it, Chiri," Tasuki grumbled. "How could this have happened? Where the eff is Tamahome? He said he was gonna protect her!" The bandit paced around the small quarters of the monk's room.

Chichiri's mask was discarded on a small table, and without it the monk's expression was somber and distressed. "I don't know, no da. I can only guess that they haven't found each other, because Tamahome would never have let anything like this happen if her were there, no da."

Tasuki growled, low in his throat. "Taiitsukun needs to hurry it up, cause I'm in the mood to kick some ass. While we're just sitting here, who knows what the hell they're doin' ta Miaka."

"I know, no da. But I'm sure Taiitsukun is working as fast as she can. Breaching the barrier between worlds can't be easy, even for one as powerful as she."

Tasuki stopped pacing abruptly and flopped backwards on the monk's bed, aggrieved. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. No mouthing off to Grandma. But damn, Chiri, I hate feelin' so helpless." He moved his hand into his pocket, seeking the small bit of cloth and the connection that he had carried with him for twelve years.

Chichiri's astute gaze followed the movement, but wisely, he said nothing.

The knock on his door brought them both to their feet. It was Nyan-Nyan. "Taiitsukun is ready for you," it announced gleefully.

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They found Taiitsukun where they had left her, hovering in the middle of the room, lost in thought. Chichiri cleared his throat politely to announce their presence. "Ah, you've returned," Taiitsukun straightened her shoulders and nodded for them to resume their seats. "I have conferred with Nyan-Nyan and Suzaku and I believe we have found a way to transport you to Miaka's world. However, once you are there, I will not be able to reach you. You will have to return of your own volition, either through the book of the Universe of the Four Gods, or by other, currently unknown means. It is possible you will be unable to find a portal. Therefore, it is your choice if you will undertake this rescue. Your service to your Miko effectively ended when she returned to her own world. If you do this now, it will be choice, and not duty, that compels you."

"Ta hell with all that, I'm goin' no matter what," Tasuki glared at Taiitsukun and crossed him arms over his chest, as if waiting for the old woman to object.

"Miaka needs us, no da," Chichiri stated firmly.

Taiitsukun's face broke out in a wide smile that was possibly more hideous than anything Tasuki had ever seen. He cringed and shied a little closer to Chichiri. A glance at Taiitsukun informed him that she had not missed his reaction, but he saw something lurking in the ancient eyes. Was that amusement? _Tha old hag is winding me up_! he realized, and snorted. His respect for the ancient being grudgingly rose upon realizing the old coot had a sense of humor.

"I am glad to hear it. We can begin the ritual as soon as we procure an artifact from Miaka's world, which will act as a gateway."

"But Taiitsukun, where will we find such an item?" Chichiri queried, scratching his head. "Miaka took all her belongings back with her, no da."

"Not all," Taiitsukun answered, staring intently at the hot-headed bandit. He flinched. _How'd she know_? he panicked, wondering if Taiitsukun had also figured out _why_ he'd kept the memento from the miko's time in Konan. His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to out him, but she remained silent and unblinking in her gaze. _Aww, fuck it all. _

Tasuki reached into his pocket and removed the scrap that had been his constant companion since Miaka's return to her own world. "I, uh, found this back at Mt. Reikaku, ya know, after she left an' all. I thought she might want it back one day, so I, uh, kept it. In case. Ya know."

Chichiri's eyes widened at the small blue strip of cloth with the bow on the end. Even after all this time, it was easily recognizable as part of Miaka's school uniform. Tasuki's features were carefully schooled in indifference, but the tips of his ears blazed as red as his hair. _Don't say anything, let it go, it's not important now..._

When Chichiri spoke, his voice was bland. "Good thinking, no da. Will this work?"

Taiitsukun inclined her head as she took the bow from Tasuki's outstretched hand. "It will indeed. Now concentrate and don't move. I'm going to transport you to someone I believe may be of help."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Disclaimer from chapter 1 still applies._

Yui Hongo slipped her feet out of the confining shoes and kicked them to the middle of her living room before sinking down on her sofa with a sigh. It had been a particularly tough day at the labs where she worked as a junior analytical researcher, and now all she wanted was pizza, a hot bath, and sleep.

Yui tipped her head back and closed her eyes. She had taken the job just out of university in an attempt to help her friend Miaka, but she was beginning to lose faith. _She_ knew Miaka wasn't suffering from delusions, and she told the doctors so, but she couldn't say she had been to Konan as well without being institutionalized too. As much as it tore Yui apart to watch her friend suffer, she knew her best chances for freeing Miaka lay in remaining outside. In the meantime, she visited her friend twice a month, the maximum allowed by Miaka's doctors, and worked hard in her job to help develop new medications. If only they could discover one that allowed Miaka to think and react normally, Yui was sure that the doctors would allow her friend to leave the facility under supervision. What they needed was a medication that effectively... did nothing. But a medication that did nothing would not make it past the rigorous stages of testing and would never make its way to Miaka. In the meantime, she watched her friend's mental state deteriorate due to the therapies and medications meant to "cure" her. _Miaka had started out perfectly sane_, Yui thought bitterly. _It had taken the doctors to make her delusional._

Yui blinked back the rush of tears that came whenever she thought of her dearest friend. If she had ever doubted the cruelness of the Universe, the past three years would have cured her of any naivety. She only hoped, if she got Miaka back, that her friend's spirit could heal. She couldn't bear it if the establishment broke her friend, when nothing else could.

"Oh Miaka... I'm sorry," Yui whispered.She remained there, eyes closed, and let the tension of the day drain from her.

It was the flash of red, bright beneath her eyelids, that caused her eyes to fly open. Two men materialized about a foot from the floor and crashed to the ground with an unceremonious thud, causing the floor of Yui's apartment to shake. She yelped, unable to do anything but stare, as the men started to bicker.

"Damn it, Chiri, her landings are no better than yours!"

"It's not easy, no da! Perhaps you want to try the next one for yourself, hmm?"

"So where the fuck are we?" grumbled the flame haired man, picking himself up gingerly, making a show of checking himself over from bruises or broken bones.

"I think we're... oh! Greetings, Seiryuu no Miko, no da," the monk greeted her courteously, noticing where they were for the first time.

"Hey, that's Miaka's friend! Remember us?" Tasuki grinned, flashing his fangs at the blonde woman.

Yui blinked, then burst into tears and flung herself into Chichiri's arms. "Oh, God, I'm so _glad_ to see you!" she sobbed on the stunned monk's chest. _Thank you, Suzaku_!

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Fifteen minutes later, the three were seated around Yui's kitchen table with steaming cups of tea in front of them. Yui stared into hers while she filled the Suzaku no seishi in on Miaka's condition.

"They let me see her last on her birthday, two weeks ago. She looked... well, she looked awful. Her eyes were wild and her face was puffy and bloated from the medications they have her on. She's not sleeping, and she's barely eating. She's still hallucinating, too, although I don't think her doctors have caught on yet. I doubt they'd be able to find their own asses with a map and a flashlight, to be honest." The vitriol in the blonde's voice made Chichiri blush, and although he didn't know what a flashlight was, he believed he understood the sentiment. He reached up and removed his mask before running one hand through his hair.

"We need to get her out of there, Yui. I was able to connect to her _ki_ for a brief moment when the mark appeared, and it was weak, too weak, no da. I don't know how much more she can handle."

"She ain't _gotta_ handle any more now that we're here, " Tasuki grumbled, popping his knuckles. "We go in, we get here, we roast anything in out way, and we get tha'hell out. Simple enough."

Chichiri focused his good eye on his friend. "It's going to be harder than that, no da. I'm sure there are going to be guards, and we're not familiar with all the things they have in this world. There could be traps, no da. We need Yui's assistance for that, at the very least. And we need a plan."

"I gotta plan right here," Tasuki muttered threateningly, patting his tessen, but he stopped looking as though he were going to rush out at any moment. Chichiri sighed. He understood how the bandit felt, but he also understood the need for caution, something he feared Tasuki would never appreciate past "take, toast, and run".

Yui spoke hesitantly. "There _are_..er... traps. Security systems, computerized locks, all sorts of things. I don't know the half of it, but just walking in is _not_ going to happen. Some of the people being held there are dangerous, so security is as tight as it would be at a prison."

"Is there anything to stop me from porting in?" Chichiri asked, thinking aloud.

Yui shook her head, her fair hair brushing against her jawline. "I don't think so... but Miaka is rarely alone in her rooms. You'd have to time it carefully and get away quickly. I'm sure they'll be looking fro her afterwards, and if she's just had a treatment she's not going to be any sort of help in her rescue. I don't know how she'll react, honestly. I wonder if she'll even recognize you anymore with everything they've done to her."

Chichiri's gaze darted to Tasuki's face to see how he'd take that. No reaction, other than a tightening of his lips. Good. The monk had long known his friend harbored feelings for their Miko. Just how deep those feelings ran, he had no clue, until this morning when he realized Tasuki has carried with him for so many years the only piece of herself Miaka had left behind in their world. If Miaka was as bad as Yui said, and Chichiri had no doubts that it was so, then he feared for how his quick-tempered friend was going to deal with it.

"Nights would be best, no da?"

"I believe so," Yui affirmed. They have staff there around the clock, but it's should be quieter then, and we can be sure Miaka will be in her room."

"So where's Tamahome, then? Why isn't he protecting Miaka?" Tasuki asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. To the uninformed observer, he would have looked casual, almost bored, but Chichiri did not miss the way the bandit's jaw tightened and one hand curled into a fist. Oh yes, his friend had it _bad_.

"I don't know," Yui answered, staring once more into her tea. "Miaka was sure he would find her, but... as far as I know, no one other than myself and and Mrs. Yuuki have tried to visit Miaka, and I know he never found her before... before," she finished lamely, shrugging one shoulder.

"I thought Miaka has a brother?" Chichiri inquired, curious.

"She does- did." Yui corrected. "He died five years ago." She gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm certain Keisuke wouldn't have left her in an institution." The slight emphasis on Keisuke's name left no doubt that Yui felt guilty for her helplessness.

Chichiri reached over and placed one hand on top of Yui's in a comforting gesture. "I'm sure you did everything you could, no da. It wouldn't have helped Miaka if they had taken you as well."

Yui sniffed and blinked rapidly. "All the same, I'll feel better once we get her out of there."

"Agreed," Chichiri smiled sadly, patting the Seiryuu no Miko's hand before withdrawing his own.

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Tasuki couldn't sleep. He was too angry over what was happening to his Miko, too bewildered by all the strange things in her world, and he had to piss. He grimaced and shifted on the bed. All that tea hadn't been such a good idea when he had no clue where to find the latrines. He'd tried sneaking out of Yui's apartment to find a discreet bush, but when he walked outside, all he'd found were corridors and nary a tree in sight. Similarly, he'd peeked in the corners of the room Yui had directed him to, and even under the bed, but found nothing resembling a chamber pot.

He grunted and searched for a distraction to take his mind off his over-full bladder. He tried to picture what Miaka would look like now, as a woman of 23, but he kept seeing her as a cute little thing with twin dumplings and a bright smile. It was the smile that drew him first, warm, sincere, and without artifice. That smile was so different than any other he's seen on a woman's face before that he was half in love before he knew what hit him. And what had hit him, of course, was Miaka. Even now, so many years later, the memory of the spunky girl made him chuckle.

But for the longest time what he couldn't understand was how Miaka had drawn all of them to her. She wasn't beautiful. She was cute, yes, and attractive, but definitely not beautiful in the classic sense. Yet she'd had all of them tripping over themselves for the chance to claim her heart. Hell, even Gay-boy Nuriko had succumbed and no one had batted an eye, cause it was _Miaka, _as if that explained everything.

Maybe it did.

He'd given it a lot of thought on those sleepless nights, where he'd try to close his tired eyes only to be greeted with memories of sparkling green ones, searing through his skin right into his very soul. And as poetical as that sounded, he didn't like it one bit. It was worse than being caught naked, all exposed-like with nothing between him and those raw emotions and baser instincts that he tried his best to hide. When it came down to it, he'd prefer to stay awake, _thankyouverymuch_, but since there had been plenty of those nights, there was lots of time for contemplating.

Miaka had been different than other girls Tasuki had known. She wasn't spiteful, vindictive, manipulative (although she'd once told him the story of how she'd gotten Tamahome to agree to help her look for Yui by screaming out that he was a slave trader in the town square. He'd laughed his ass off at _that_ one) or any of those other girlie things. And yet... still, she'd managed to be femininity personified, or at least all the good parts of it. But what had amazed him those most was her capacity for caring. Oh sure, she loved Tamahome, but he had felt instinctively, as had all the others, that she loved each of them as well. Not the same _kind_ of love, mind, but none of their group of affection-starved miscreants had cared much. So much love and heart in one tiny girl. She'd inspired such devotion, and now, he was several hundred years away from home, desperately needing a piss and wondering how to blow out the candle that someone had idiotically put in a clear pottery-like ball, because of the strength of that devotion. It was all rather maudlin, really. And he'd laugh about it if he didn't think it'd make him wet himself.

There was a light knock at the door, followed by a fall of blonde hair and Yui's face peeking in. "Are you settled in all right?" she asked politely. Tasuki had a brief internal struggle between embarrassment and desperation – desperation won- and he entreated, "Um, is there anywhere to...um... go... you know?" He was sure his face was flaming red and he purposely looked _past_ Yui rather than have to see her face.

"What? Oh, the...um...facilities! Yeah, this way, let me show you how to operate it."

_Operate_ it? Tasuki's eyes widened and he strongly considered denying the need of any...facilities. But his body was about to betray him, so he followed behind Yui and got a crash-course in how to use modern plumbing, before Yui discretely left him to it.

One situation down, one to go. But Yui was presumably in her room when Tauski exited the bathroom, and there was no way he was going to go knocking on her door, so he lay back down on his bed with the lights still on. He tried to think about what the rescue mission would entail, but before too long the excitement of the day caught up with him and he fell into a fitful rest.

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"Ms. Hongo and Mrs. Yuuiki to see Miaka Yuuki, please," Yui informed the receptionist brightly. The receptionist returned the smile and handed Yui the visitor's register. "Sign, please, and I need to see your I.D.'s."

Yui signed her name quickly and handed the clipboard to "Mrs. Yuuki", who had been watching intently the scratching movements of the pen against paper. "She" signed as well, carefully approximating the signature that also graced the new identification card.

As loathe as Yui was to bring anyone else into the caper, she had admitted that her great mind for strategic planning didn't include falsifying documents of any kind, so she had called her boyfriend Tetsuya Kajiwara. In no time at all, he arrived at Yui's apartment, necessary documents in hand, still warm from the laminate machine.

"They only check for ID at the institution, but I had thought that you might need passports to travel if necessary, so I got papers for Tasuki and Chichiri, as well as the ID for Mrs. Yuuki." Tetsuya had blushed at the loving look Yui bestowed upon him.

Yui and Chichiri handed over their ID cards, which the receptionist glanced at briefly. "OK, empty your pockets and I'll buzz you in. Good morning, Ms. Hongo, Mrs. Yuuki."

Yui led Chichiri down a maze of florescent lit hallways, before she slipped through a small door labeled "#81371". "Miaka isn't in here, so we've only got a minute. See that black object mounted in the corner? That's a camera. Anything that is happening in this room can be watched by a security guard in another room. I'm going to change the angle slightly, so there will be a blind spot that's just underneath it, but you _must_ land in that spot or you will be seen. Can you do it?"

Chichiri studied the camera and the small 3x3 area Yui was gesturing towards. "I think so, no da. Now that I've seen the area it will be easier."

Yui stood just under the camera and removed a plastic telescoping rod from the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She tapped the camera carefully, changing the angle bit by bit, as not to attract the attention of anyone who might be monitoring the security room. Once she was satisfied, she collapsed the rod, placed it back in her sleeve, and gave Chichiri a shaky smile. "Time to see Miaka."

The institution's common room was supposed to be a place where patients could see visitors in a home-like atmosphere. It failed, on all counts. The furnishings, picked first for safety and secondly for style, did not factor anything more into the equation. The result was plastic chairs that never seemed to be comfortable, no matter how often one shifted, bright florescent lights that chased away any sunlight that came through the recessed, barred windows, one piece tables that were bolted to the floor, as not to become weapons. A few pieces of artwork were hung precisely along the walls. The whole effect was something Yui privately referred to as "art deco meets asylum", and she pushed down the stirrings of anticipation that, if all went well, her friend would never have to sit in this horrible room again.

Yui caught sight of Miaka, tucked away at a corner table, gazing into nothing, and her heart dropped. She glanced apprehensively at Chichiri, still wearing the visage of Mrs. Yuuki. She had tried to prepare him for this, earlier this morning. But how can someone be prepared for the sight of their formerly vivacious friend sitting catatonic, drooling on herself? She heard him suck in a breath, saw the tremor that ran through his body, but the monk still walked forward, one foot in front of the other, towards the Miaka who was so different than the spirited girl he'd sworn to protect.

Yui reached out, took Miaka's cold hand in her own, spoke in gentle soothing tones, telling her about a tv program she had watched, something funny Tetsuya's cat had done, the obnoxious co-worker who was planning a wedding. She did not mention the Universe of the Four Gods, nor did she discuss her strange visitors. She thought, once, there was a flicker of recognition in Miaka's eyes when they passed over Chichiri, but they glazed over again, and besides, Miaka would have seen nothing more than her own mother.

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Tasuki was pacing again.

He'd been doing that entirely too much lately, but damn it, he felt like some sort of caged beast, left behind by Yui and Chichiri as they went to begin preparations for that evening's escape. Yui hadn't wanted to leave him alone, but Chichiri's magic could only do so much, and Miaka only had two approved visitors on the institution's list, so they had gone right after Chichiri's admonition to "behave yourself, stay put, and don't burn anything, no da!" Damn interfering monk.

He felt useless, _less_ than useless, knowing Miaka was somewhere close by, and people were fucking with her _mind_, and he was left behind with a parting cheap shot from Chiri and a nervous smile from Yui. That pissed him off too. What did she think he was going to do, burn the apartment down around his ears? He had the feeling that Yui would have been more than happy to take the tessen with her, as insurance, but she didn't quite dare. Ha. But recalling the worry in Yui's eyes stayed his hand as it began to twitch towards is tessen. Damn conscience.

He sat down on the plush seat Yui had called a sofa, fidgeted, then got right back up and paced some more. Keep the body moving so the mind doesn't have time to dwell. Someone had said that to him once, he couldn't remember who, but it was damn good advice all the same.

The time moved slowly past, and by the time he heard the metallic scrape of a key in the lock, he was on the verge taking Yui's television apart, just to alleviate his boredom and see what the hell it was.

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Yui and Chichiri returned, loaded down with shopping bags and a few small wheeled suitcases. The monk's mask was firmly in place, smiling at him, but one look at Yui's face told him it hadn't been one of Miaka's increasingly rare (according to Yui) good days. She did look relieved to find her apartment still standing and her possessions in, presumably, good working order. Tasuki shoved the remote control that he had disemboweled under a couch cushion when Yui bent over one of the shopping bags. Chichiri's mask glared at him. Tasuki gave him an innocent smile and fought back a pang of guilt. _Serves them right, leavin' me here locked up_!

Yui was speaking, rummaging through the bags at her feet. "I got you both a few days worth of clothes and shoes, toiletries, bags to pack them all in, just in case. And..." she turned to her large messenger bag and removed a heavy leatherbound book.

"Is that...?" Tasuki asked, reaching out to trace the lettering on the spine.

"The Universe of the Four Gods," Yui answered, somewhat shakily. "I... um... stole it from the library." Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked both terrified and proud. Tasuki had to wonder at this girl, who would plan to steal a person out of an institution without a second thought, but would blush over the theft of a book. For the first time he understood why Miaka had moved heaven and earth to save Yui.

"Well done!" he gave her an approving smile and patted her shoulder.

They still had the better part of the day before them, as the rescue was planned for the middle of the night. Yui passed out the clothing, showed them the soap, shampoo, and toothpaste she had purchased. She demonstrated how to lace up the new tennis shoes. Tasuki quite liked the toothpaste, but he didn't think too highly of the shoes. The hair stuff smelled like flowers, so he recapped it and stuck it in the bottom of the suitcase. He tried to pay attention as Yui demonstrated how to use modern currency, but decided to leave that part to Chiri.

"When they find Miaka missing, I'm certain someone will come here looking for her, so you're going to have to leave as soon as possible, either through the book, or by going to a hotel... I mean, an inn, until we can be sure that no one's watching the place," Yui said prosaically. "I've got an extra suitcase packed for Miaka, just in case."

She moved over to her couch, and Tauski stood there helplessly as she sat down, right where he had hidden the... thing. She grimaced, then reached in the cushions and pulled out the mangled device. She stared at it for a long minute, then met his eyes. One of her cheeks twitched.

He shrugged one shoulder and gave Yui his best bandit grin, gratified that she didn't kill him on the spot.

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Chichiri rapped his knuckles against the door and was immediately answered by Tasuki's call to enter. He stepped carefully across the floor and knelt by the side of the bed, where the flame-haired bandit was sprawled, shirtless, one lean forearm splayed over his eyes. He looked perfectly at peace, but Chichiri knew his friend well enough to see the tension in Tasuki's muscular form. He was coiled as tightly as a snake and ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

Tasuki's forearm lifted just enough for one amber eye to peek out. Chichiri waited. Tasuki turned his head, looking full at him. He waited some more.

Finally, his breath hissing out of him, the redhead propped himself up on one elbow and grouched, "Well? Aren't ya gonna tell me how she is?"

Chichiri held his peace.

"Fine, damn it! I promise not to go runnin' off when ya tell me. And I won't even hit anything until we get back ta Konan."

The monk raised his right eyebrow and still said nothing.

"Unless they hit me first," the bandit amended.

Silence.

"Aw, no Chiri. You're gonna make me do those breathing things, aren't ya?"

Chichiri kept the amusement off his face. "Me? I'm not making you do anything, no da."

Tasuki huffed, but slid off the bed and obediently closed his eyes. Chichiri waited until some of the tension left Tasuki's posture and his breathing was calm and even. Maybe now he could talk to his young friend without any unnecessary violence. He didn't think Yui's furniture could take it.

"It's worse than I thought. I felt her _ki_, but it was so faint, and it was different. It was... confused, perhaps. Lost. Her spirit barely clings to her body. She's too thin, and her eyes were just blank, no da. There was nothing there of Miaka, Tasuki."

"Can we... is it...?"

_Is it too late? Can we save her, bring her back? _He answered the question Tasuki had been loathe to voice. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"How can they do something like that to her, Chiri? Fuck around with someone's head like that. What gives them the goddamn _right_?" Tasuki's hand was fisted and trembling.

Chichiri tried to keep the anger out of his own voice when he answered, hoping to soothe his friend in some small way. "I don't have that answer either. This world, it's not like ours, no da. I assume parts of it are just as cruel, although the means are different."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Chichiri sighed. "When I was training as an apprentice, I found a baby kingfisher. His wing was broken, and he would have died had I not taken him in. I bound his wing, used what powers I could to calm him and bring him peace. I brought him food, no da. Time passed and he grew and healed. But during that time, he had become so dependent on me that he never learned to hunt his own food. He could catch a lizard but not kill it. But I couldn't keep him, as he was a wild being. And so I set him free, no da." Chichiri raised up to his feet and started for the door.

"What happened to em?" Tasuki asked.

Chichiri paused, one hand on the door frame. "He starved." He walked out of the room, Tasuki's voice following him down the hallway.

"...the _fuck_, Chiri! Why're ya tellin' me stories about dead birds, huh?"

"What right does any of us have?" Chichiri whispered, slipping his mask back into place.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Tasuki's reference to "big damn heroes" is a nod to Joss Whedon's brilliant but canceled series, **Firefly**. In the previous chapter, Yui helps Tasuki learn modern plumbing-**KittyLynne** did it first. The song Miaka is singing is Thea Gilmore's haunting **Pirate Moon**, off the Avalanche album. I couldn't use the lyrics here for the obvious reasons, but I hear her singing the "cloud ballet" verse (the 5th one). It's on Youtube for those interested in hearing it. (And you really should be, because it is AMAZING.)_

After a painfully long afternoon and evening, Yui announced it was time. They gathered in the middle of the living room, dressed identically in black jeans, turtlenecks, and knit caps. Chichiri still carried his staff and hat, looking almost as uncomfortable as Tasuki felt. The bandit tugged at the neck of the shirt, wincing. The slight constriction brought back memories of almost being choked to death by Tamahome's nunchaku. _Ah, good times_.

Chichiri was leading them through a last-minute review of the plan. He didn't bother listening; at this point he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the delicious anticipation of serving his Miko once more, of being useful and necessary and part of something. He wanted to get this posturing over with.

"Tasuki?_ Tasuki_! DAAAA!" The shakujō met the back of the bandit's head with a resounding crack. Tasuki spun, his hand already on his tessen, before he realized it was Chichiri's face glaring back at him. "Pay attention, no da! We can't afford any mistakes. This may be the only chance we'll have to save Miaka!"

That swift reminder of what was at stake made Tasuki's blood run cold. "Sorry," he muttered, ashamed.

Seemingly assured that he had gotten through to the impulsive bandit, Chichiri continued. "After we get her out, we'll made a decision on what to do next. A large portion of that depends on Miaka's condition."

Tasuki tried to quell the churning in his stomach. Chichiri was giving him a speculative look so he forced himself to nod and follow along.

Chichiri and Yui explained about the positioning of the camera and the importance of staying directly underneath. Yui gave Chichiri the map of Tokyo, with the locations of several hotels marked. And finally, when they had gone over every aspect, planned for every contingency, Chichiri announced it was time to go.

_Finally_! At the monk's words, an answering rush arose in Tasuki. Time for battle, to fight for a cause that _meant_ something. Not that he didn't appreciate the simplicity of a barroom brawl, he most assuredly did, but this, being a seishi, called to the noble part of his being. Valorous cause plus fighting equals FUN, that part of Tasuki's mind called out, and he grinned, fangs bared, ready for action.

Chichiri's hand clamped down on Tasuki's upper arm, surprisingly vice-like. "Remember, we're here to rescue, no da. We want no fighting unless there is _no other_ way."

Tasuki smirked. "Got it. But ya can't blame me for hopin' some of those so-called physicians trip and land in front of my tessen, ya know."

Chichiri's mask quirked into a brief smile. "I wouldn't mind that myself, no da." He tossed his kasa on the ground, then Tasuki felt only Chichiri's firm grip on his upper arm and he guided him into the portal.

He swallowed reflexively, forcing the nausea back. No matter how many times he traveled this way, he never got used to the sensation of space swirling around him. He saw brief flashes of color and light and squeezed his eyes closed, his entire face scrunching with the effort as his stomach protested. And then, just when he was certain he couldn't take a second more, everything was blissfully still and he rose out of the portal.

The room was half-lit, even in the middle of the night, and empty save for a small chair and a bed with a small figure huddled on it. His breath caught at the sight of her, legs drawn up and her chin resting on her knees, but even before he saw he, he _felt_ her. He'd never been able to sense the _ki_ of another person the way Chichiri could, but the moment he floated out of that bizarre hat of Chiri's, his senses had been overwhelmed with her presence. He was being drawn in and it took every bit of willpower him had to avoid stepping forward, towards her and out of the safely of what Yui kept calling the dead-zone.

His heart slammed in his chest as he realized nothing had changed in twelve years. If anything, the feelings were stronger now, sharpened by the time and distance between them. What the hell was he going to_ do_?

_Get Miaka_, his overwrought mind screamed at him. _Get her and worry about the rest later_!

He didn't even hear Chiri land behind him, so intent he was on the girl... no, woman... before him. She was too skinny by half, and her hair was wild with disarray, and the wrinkled white nightdress she wore was intended for someone three times her size, making her look even more waifish than she was, but she was Miaka. He wanted to cry out with the joy of seeing her again.

And then, the same niggling part of Tasuki's mind that occasionally spat a bit of common sense at him spoke up again. Two men had materialized out of nowhere and she _hadn't even glanced their way._ The room wasn't dark enough for them to be standing in shadows. She couldn't have missed seeing them, and the simple reality of the situation crept into his brain and threatened to knock him over. He opened his mouth but found he couldn't speak and closed it with a snap. He cut his eyes over to Chichiri's, helpless in the face of the evidence, and suddenly feeling small, worthless, and very, very angry.

"Miaka?" Chichiri asked cautiously. She didn't even blink, just stared forward with that same blank expression. "Miaka, can you hear me, no da?"

There was no reaction from the woman on the bed.

"Hey, dumplin' head! What kinda way is that ta greet old friends?" Tasuki found his voice. Chichiri elbowed him in the ribs and he hissed back, "What? Worth a shot!" but both men straightened when the soft, eerie voice floated over to them.

"You're not here. You don't exist," she said, almost singing it, but still she stared straight ahead, rocking slightly.

"We're here. We're real. Come and see," Chichiri coaxed gently, reaching out a hand as far as he dared.

Miaka did not lean forward to take the monk's hand, nor did she glance in their direction. She did the last thing either of them expected. She began to sing, her voice rich and beautiful, yet so full of longing and defeat that Tasuki swore the heart that only moments before was slamming painfully against his chest was now being ripped apart.

They stood transfixed, unsure how to proceed, when Tasuki heard the last thing either of them wanted to hear. Someone was whistling, shoes squeaking down the hallway, footsteps coming closer, and then halting outside the closed door. Clinking sounds, the same scrape of metal on metal that Tasuki had heard before Yui had opened the door to her apartment. His mouth was suddenly dry. The door started to swing open, spilling bright light across the floor.

Chichiri made a quick, complicated gesture towards the door with one hand, using the other to toss the kasa back on the floor. "Tasuki!", he ordered, jerking his head towards the woman on the bed.

He was beside her in less than a heartbeat, scooping her up with his seishi speed and bringing her back to the opened portal. She threw back her head and cried out, her high pitched voice echoing in the bare room, as Tasuki heaved her over one shoulder and jumped through the portal, Chichiri following as the barrier holding the door closed was broken.

When the orderly stumbled through the suddenly compliant door, he found the bedsheets in disarray, no sign of his patient, and in the corner, one round straw Chinese fishing hat, rocking around on its brim before it stilled.

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They crashed in the middle of the living room floor in a heap, having narrowly missed landing on a frantic Yui. She dove towards them instantly, her knee digging painfully into Tasuki's back as she helped Miaka to her feet. Tears were streaming down the Seiryuu no miko's face as she threw her arms around Miaka, who was still staring off into nothingness. By the time the seishi had gotten themselves disengaged from each other, she was somewhat more composed, although her deathly pallor and red rimmed eyes promised more sobbing once they'd gone.

Chichiri took charge, bringing the heavy leather book over to Miaka, whom Yui was leading to a nearby chair. The monk gingerly placed the book on her lap and opened it.

Nothing happened.

Chichiri swore. Tasuki would have found it laughable if the first feelings of cold panic weren't taking hold of him. He was reaching for the suitcases with numb fingers, trying his best to forget the fact that unless someone thought of _something_, he and Chichiri were going to be stuck in a time and place not meant for them. They'd have to go on the run in a strange city; he'd have to learn about the currency after all, he should have listened when Yui was explaining it, stupid, _stupid_ idiot for not thinking it was important... and time slowed to a crawl.

Chichiri spun away from the book and the catatonic priestess, urgency enhancing the fluidity of his movements. Tasuki noticed for the first time how his friend carried himself with the grace of perfect control, each gesture precise and meticulous, and he admired how the pressure of the situation only made it more apparent. _Probably came from training with Taiitsukun_, Tasuki thought, and then wondered why the hell he was thinking about how Chiri _moved_ when their whole world was slipping through their fingers. Maybe he was the one going crazy.

He blinked once, twice, in an attempt to clear his mind of the fog creeping in. Chichiri was in front of Yui, saying something. Tasuki could see the words being formed but there was no sounds. _Heh. That's funny_, he thought. _Oh, lookit that, I'm sittin' down._

Yui cast a worried look in his direction, but hurried from the room. What was she looking at him like that for? _Oh yeah_, it dawned on him. _I'm s'posed to be protecting Miaka_. He tried to stand, frowned at his uncooperative legs, and dragged himself over to stand by her chair. She turned towards him, looked _through_ him, and hummed quietly.

"Tasuki?" Chichiri was crouched next to him, and Yui peered down over the monk's shoulder. Chiri was holding something, a dried flower, and underneath the mustiness he caught the scent of night-blooming jasmine. He used to like the fragrance, but it had lost its appeal after getting his ass beat in the garden of the Kutō palace. The whole place had stunk of jasmine... and hadn't Yui been there?... The realization slowly dawned on Tasuki and snapped him out of the shock that had taken hold. Chichiri was holding a link to their home.

"This is our best chance," Chichiri murmured, seeking permission "but I can't do it alone."

Tasuki shakily got to his feet. "Take what ya need," he ordered, closing his eyes and willing with everything he had that this would work.

He could hear the rattle of the shakujō rings and then he felt the gentle drawing, and then the powerful tug as Chichiri drew from his_ki_, absorbing it and using it to bolster the ritual. It wasn't the first time Tasuki had volunteered his life-force, and that made it easier, but he still had to struggle not to draw the energy back into himself. Chichiri was chanting softly, but even Tasuki, unschooled in all things spiritual, could tell he was having difficulties. There was an undercurrent of steel in his friend's voice and Tasuki's resolved doubled. He opened himself further, allowing Chichiri to take as much as he dared give. He just hoped it would be enough.

Tasuki leaned heavily against the side of the chair, braced one palm against the upholstered arm, and he felt a small, cold hand slip into his free one. _Miaka_. And then, through their linked hands, he felt a surge of feminine energy as Miaka joined what _ki_ she had to the ritual.

The book, still on Miaka's lap, flew open in a burst of red light, emitting the far away cry of a phoenix as the pages flew past. Tasuki's eyes flew open and he sought Chichiri's face. The monk's mask was arranged in a neutral expression, but he was staring at Miaka and Tasuki knew Chiri was just as shocked as he was.

And then time sped up again, and Yui was pressing the bag she'd packed for them into the hand that wasn't still holding on to Miaka's, and Tasuki gave the blonde what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Yui seemed to understand. "I know you'll take care of her," she whispered, and she stepped back as Chichiri moved closer to them. He placed one hand on each of their shoulders as the pages stopped their frantic flipping and fluttered down peacefully to show an illustration of a rushing river surrounded by dense forests. "Lean down," the monk ordered wearily, slumping forward.

Tasuki had once, as a child, fallen down the side of a very steep hill, tumbling and bouncing and bumping every damn rock and stick on the way down. Falling through the book was like that, but instead of hard, unyielding earth he met with walls of hard, unyielding air. It was like trying to ram his head against one of Chiri's magical barriers. He'd done that once too, while sparring, and it had given him one hell of a headache. Chiri had laughed gleefully when he had finally fessed up to feeling the effects days later, and brewed him a strong infusion of willow bark tea. Tasuki hoped, where ever they landed, it'd be near a willow tree. He was going to need it.

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Tasuki groaned, opened one eye and winced as moonlight flooded his vision. He heard water running nearby, close enough to make him nervous, although the ground beneath him seemed dry enough. He blinked a few times and tried lifting his head but the world spun around him so sickeningly that he had to swallow back bile and lay back, panting with the effort of keeping the nausea at bay.

After a few moments his vision cleared and he rolled over gingerly, giving his body time to adjust. He couldn't remember exactly what was going on, but it felt like he had the mother of all hangovers. So why was he outside? And why, he wondered, glancing down, was he dressed so oddly?

He shot upright as the memories came flooding back and let out a hiss as the world rocked beneath him once more. He leaned over until his head was between his knees, willing the earth to stop moving already so he could check on Miaka and Chichiri.

When everything was still once more, he scanned the area, thankful for the bright moonlight that illuminated the sky, and relieved to see both of his traveling companions within an easy distance. Both still seemed to be fast asleep, so after checking to make sure they were breathing and in one piece, he took stock of their situation. By his estimation, they were Suzaku-knows-where, with no horses, only a bag of goods from another world, with Miaka helpless as a child and Chichiri knocked out flat. Eh. No matter. They'd dealt with worse. It seemed they had landed directly into the book's illustration, so there was plenty of wood for a fire and shelter, and water for cooking, washing, and drinking. Maybe Chiri would be up for a little fishing later. And, best of all, willow trees were plentiful. He sent up a small prayer of thanks, dipped one of his handkerchiefs in the cold river water, and tied it, dripping, around his aching head.

He gathered the necessary wood to make a fire, stifling a groan whenever he had to bend over. He considered gathering stones, but decided against it and sat on the ground to clear an area for a fire pit and to give his aching head a rest. After he piled the wood into the pit, he stuffed in the cracks with dried grass and used his tessen to ignite it.

Chichiri was still unconscious, but it sounded like Miaka was beginning to stir. He crouched down next to her prone form, resting on his heels, waiting to see what sort of reaction, if any, she'd have.

Dark lashes fluttered against her cheek several times before her eyes opened and met his. He smiled at her gently, but there was no recognition in Miaka's face. He helped her to stand and led her over to the fire, where she gathered her knees to her chest and stared, unmoving, into the flames.

Tasuki was uncertain of how to proceed. He needed to move the monk closer to the fire, where he could be more easily protected- as well as warm, he thought grimly, running his hands briskly up and down his arms- but he was wary of leaving Miaka alone by the fire. He settled down next to her, reached for her hand, thought better of it, and rested his hand on her shoulder instead. "Mi-chan?"

She turned those empty eyes on him, and he wanted to weep. But someone had to go get Chiri, so he gritted his teeth and promised himself he'd go beat the hell out of something soon to work off that anger. "Mi-chan, I've got to go check on Chichiri. Can ya sit here while I do that? I'm probably gonna have to carry him back here to the fire, so can ya just sit tight for me?" He gave her his best bandit grin, and was gratified to see her head dip in a small nod. However, all relief fled when she murmured, "Yes, please, I'd love some canapés."

He decided to take his chances, so he left her there by the fire, peering back every few steps to make sure she was still seated. "What the hell are canapés?" he muttered, to keep himself from brooding on what was really bothering him- when he had carried her into the portal in the institution, she had cried out a name. _Tamahome_.

So she still remembered him. That was a good thing. So why the hell did he feel like someone was ripping out his guts and tying them in knots? He scowled and strode forward, where Chichiri still lay prone. He checked the monk's pulse, then sighed and heaved him up over his shoulder. Fuck, the monk was heavier than he looked. He used a burst of speed, wanting to get them back to the fire quickly. Miaka still hadn't moved, which would have worried Tasuki more under any other circumstance. For now, he was just grateful she hadn't gotten herself burned while he was hauling the unconscious seishi over hill and dale.

He tried to be as gentle as possible as he lowered Chichiri to the ground, but the jostling roused him and he groaned. "Steady now, try not to move too much," Tasuki ordered, easing Chichiri back onto the hard earth.

"Did we get back?" Chichiri asked, groaning with the effort of movement.

"Yeah, we're all here and in one piece, best I can tell."

"Taiitsukun will be proud, no da..." Chichiri mumbled, already losing himself to sleep once more.

Tasuki smirked, amused despite himself. "Oh yeah. We're a couple of big damn heroes."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N:** Ayriel**, regarding your question about the book, part of that will be covered in the plot so I can't answer too much at this time. Her seishi knew she had come into their world, and I think it would be plausible for Miaka, Taiitsukun, or Yui (or more likely, a combination of all three, as Taiitsukun mentions it in chapter 1) to have told them that it was through the book. I don't think the seishi, especially Chichiri, would think it too odd. After all, he uses his hat to create portals; he doesn't actually stuff himself into it- why would the book be different:) I think Tamahome was ticked about finding out he was a character in a book, which I view as something different. The existing world vs. enchanted book world will be covered in upcoming chapters. I wish I could be a bit clearer right now. :) Anyway, thank you to **Ayriel**,** tasukigirl78**, and** KittyLynne** for the lovely reviews! And pardon the lack of spaces between certain words followed by italicized words... for some reason the spaces aren't showing. I'm working on getting that changed. Grr._

By the time Chichiri awoke, the sun was peeking over the horizon. He sat up, pressing one hand to his forehead, as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He remembered using Yui's memento of her time in Konan, some dried jasmine, to activate a portal, but what he couldn't understand was _how_ he'd done it. While he knew the ritual, it was very advanced magic, and he'd never before come close to succeeding, even while borrowing the _ki _of others to bolster his own strength. He was so engrossed in thought that he failed to notice the sounds of footsteps behind him.

"Here, drink up, it'll help with the headache," Tasuki said, pressing a half of a dried calabash gourd into his hands. It was full of steaming willow bark tea. Chichiri sighed in gratitude, sipped the bitter, astringent liquid and allowed his eyes to fall shut once more.

"How's Miaka, no da?" he asked, breathing in the medicinal steam from the cup. He could hear Tasuki fidgeting beside him, so he took another sip and waited.

"I dunno, Chiri. When she does talk, tha things she's sayin' just don't make any sense, ya know? And when she's not talkin' she's lookin' at me with those big empty eyes. I dunno what ta do for her." He gestured over to the fire, where the remains of another calabash had been sliced and cooked. "I had ta feed her earlier, couldn't get her ta eat unless I held the food up ta her mouth."

"Mmm," Chichiri murmured, taking a look around the camp Tasuki had set up for them. "When you were foraging, you didn't happen to see any magnolia vine, did you?"

Tasuki's amber eyes narrowed as he tried to recall. "I think so. What do you need?"

"Gather up as many of the berries as you can, no da. I'm going to go sit with Miaka for a while, see if I can help her at all."

"A'right," Tasuki assented, getting to his feet. He started to walk away, paused. "Chiri? What're canapés?"

Chichiri looked at him blankly, "Should I know?"

Tasuki gave a short laugh before heading back to the forest. "Probably not."

Chichiri waited until his fellow seishi had disappeared into the trees before rising , with some difficulty, to his feet. His energy reserves were almost depleted, and if he were honest with himself, he shouldn't even be _thinking_ of attempting anything more until he had rested and recovered, but he wanted to be sure Tasuki wasn't around for this. He couldn't bear it if he would be the cause of raising his friends hopes, only to see them dashed once more if he were wrong.

Miaka was still sitting silently, staring out at the river that ran along the edge of their makeshift camp. Chichiri made sure to approach her from the front; he didn't know if she could be startled anymore, but decided it would be prudent to assume that she could be, and it wouldn't be a good thing to do. When he drew even with her, he sank down to the ground and smiled at her as cheerily as he could muster.

"Morning, Miaka! Tasuki told me you've already eaten, so do you mind if I have what's left of this calabash?" He waited a few beats, then helped himself to the vegetable, washing it down with the cooling willow bark tea.

"Yesterday was exciting, don't you think? We're lucky Yui kept a memento of her travels here or it might have been even more interesting, no da. I don't know how well Tasuki and I would have done in your world, even with the maps to help us. So much is different, everything there is grander, you know?" He punctuated with a sweeping gesture of the vegetable spear. "So thanks for getting us out of there, no da." He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, hoping for any reaction. She showed none.

OK, different tactic. He finished his breakfast, drained the last of tea, contemplating the best way to try what he had in mind. Finally, after mentally reviewing and discarding two different plans, he went for the direct route. He had always been honest with his miko, and now wasn't the time to start deceiving her, no matter what he condition. He reached out and grasped her hand, gratified when the cold fingers curled around his own. "Miaka, I think you're still in there, and I want to help you find your way out, no da. Will you let me help you? I'm going to press my fingers against your forehead, ok? You'll just feel a little pressure, that's all, no pain. Just my touch." He brought his other hand up slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to move away if she were uncomfortable. She didn't. He touched his fingertips to her forehead, between and just above her now closed eyes, and reached out with his _ki_.

Joining with Miaka's mind was unlike anything he had ever done before. It felt thick, confused, like dense oppressive clouds woven with threads of strong silk. He waded through carefully, struggling to find his bearings in the fog of her being. He wandered first in one direction, then another, searching blindly for any sign of her essence, but meeting only more sadness, confusion, betrayal, and pain. _ How had she dealt with it all_? he wondered, trembling with barely suppressed grief. It wasn't even_ his_ pain, and he was feeling his heart breaking under the weight of it all. He was drowning in it, in the failed expectations and loneliness, and he felt it all, every time Miaka had ever doubted herself, all her inadequacies, those too-often moments where she felt she couldn't quite measure up to her mother's strict standards, or Yui's brilliance, or Tamahome's love.

Chichiri's hands were trembling, and his face beneath the mask was wet with his tears, but he kept his fingers firmly against her skin and redoubled his efforts. _Miaka_, he called out with his _ki_,_I know you're in here! Show yourself_!

He thought he imagined it at first, the voice beckoning to him, quiet to the point of almost-silence, but then it strengthened briefly before falling away again. Chichiri pushed back a stab of anticipation and clung to it, letting it lead him forward past the disorienting memories. Slowly, the voice grew more intense, richer and more beautiful, and he found he was weeping again, with joy this time, to hear the ecstasy and reverence of the song. It was an exaltation, of life and love and wonder, and where only moments before he had been in the depths of despair, now he was at the heights of rapture. But it made sense that the woman who experienced such anguish could also be capable of such unadulterated euphoria, and he felt keenly that Miaka was the most beautiful person he had ever known. He had always known it intellectually, but now he believed it with every fiber of his being. And now, knowing her as he did, he would cross the fires of the seven hells to get her back.

He strode forward again, calling out with his _ki_, letting it and the song direct him, until he came to his destination. The door was barely visible in the swirling emotions of Miaka's mind, but it was there, and that was the first barrier passed. Now, to find out if he was right.

He raised his shakujō, rapped it against the door twice, and waited.

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Tasuki wandered around the forest, gathering the berries Chichiri had asked for, but mainly getting his thoughts back in order. He had been so busy through the night, even after they came back to his world, getting the camp ready, finding food and making tea, tending to his friends, that he hadn't had a moment to think about anything more than their immediate survival.

He was furious with himself, truth be told. He should have been thrilled, ecstatic even, to have Miaka back with them, and he _was_ glad she was there, but not in the way he had always thought he'd be. Actually, now that she was sitting back at their makeshift camp here in his world, he missed her more than ever before. The longing he felt on those lonely nights where she danced through his mind was nothing compared to what he was feeling now, and he didn't like it one bit. He felt disloyal, unsettled, and angry that while Miaka was here, she wasn't _all_ here, and may not ever be again.

Chichiri would tell him he was grieving, and it was ok, to go ahead and feel it, but Tasuki didn't want to feel it. He wanted to be back by her side, like everything was before, with Miaka happy and whole. And if he was being totally honest, he wanted a chance to win her affections, but he knew that would never happen, and he had made peace with that long ago. But what he couldn't come to grips with was the person he loved _wasn't_ the person he loved anymore. She wasn't the Miaka he knew. Was it ok to still love her? How could he _not_ love her? Was he even making any sense anymore?

Frustrated, he swatted a low-hanging branch in his path with more force than necessary. There was another magnolia vine, loaded with berries, and he dropped to one knee to gather them. He had no idea what Chiri planned with the five-flavor fruit, but it hoped his friend had some ideas to help Miaka. What she was up against now- what they were all up against- was so far out of his realm of expertise that he was even more helpless than he had been last night.

He was pissed about that too. The first sign of difficulty and he had gone into shock. It was embarrassing, and even worse, because he hadn't realized what was happening to snap himself out if it. He had crawled on the ground like a damn tot, for crying out loud. How much worse could it get?

Hell, he was just pissed about everything today.

He plucked the last of the fruit off the vine and tucked it safely away in his belt pouch. He was pretty sure he had seen another plant further in the forest, and he didn't want to go back to the camp just yet anyway. He moved through the trees and wondered what in the hell he was going to do about everything.

He couldn't quit loving Miaka. That was like trying to stop breathing, so he was just going to have to keep loving her the best he could, no matter what. He couldn't stop protecting her either, because he was her warrior, and even more importantly, he was her _friend_, so he was going to stay with her as long as he was needed and then some. So that was two problems down.

Tasuki remembered Taiitsukun's chilling words regarding lightening being used on Miaka's mind. He'd seen a tree growing on Mt. Reikaku get hit once... well, he'd seen the tree beforehand, then the brightest flash of light imaginable coupled with a loud crack, before staring at the smoking, charred remains of what had once been a magnificent cedar. He tried to imagine what that would do to someone's _mind_, and to be honest, he was surprised she was doing as well as she was. She was still walking, and she could function to a point, and she certainly wasn't smoking at the ears. Regardless, if Tasuki was all muddled in the head, he wouldn't want everyone tiptoeing around him and treating him like an invalid, so he shouldn't treat Miaka that way, right? He'd do what needed to be done, and if that involved helping her eat her food, well then, so what?

And if she never got better? Well, he couldn't believe that, so he wasn't going to dwell on it.

Pleased with himself for working through his quandary, he whistled a tune and gathered the last of the small red berries before turning his attention to searching for more edible plants. Foraging wasn't one of Tasuki's specialties, but he could find a meal if push came to shove, and besides, he wasn't going to let his miko starve while he was on the job.

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Swathed safely in the recesses of her mind, she blinked fuzzily at the sharp rapping sound. Somewhere, she sensed a low humming, a feeling of _wrongness _dancing around her consciousbut when she tried to focus it flitted even further away. She frowned, looked around, and ignored the intrusive noise coming from.. well, somewhere. She wasn't quite sure _where_ she was, other than here, and she had been _here_ for... hmmm. Had there even been a time she _hadn't_ been here? If so, she couldn't remember.

_Here_ was the gray space. She wasn't sure how big it was, because there seemed to be no walls, just thick, still fog as far as she could see. Sometimes she thought she heard sound, but the fog would start swirling around and the sounds would suddenly seem very far away before being entirely muffled by the oppressive mists, and all would become still again.

If time passed here, she wasn't aware of it. She simply existed, neither feeling nor comprehending anything, until the loud thumping, which was beginning to intensify, breached through the safe cocoon in which she was held.

Curiosity washed over her and the buzzing intensified, warning her to go back to sleep, ignore the sound. The fog became agitated, whipping around her body, trying to lull her back into complacency. It irritated her. Funny, it never had before. The newness of the sensation pushed her forward.

The banging sound seemed to be coming from all directions at once. She tried to follow it, but the thick mists were disorienting, and she cried out, "_I don't know where to go!_"

A male voice answered hers. "Miaka! Let me in. Open the door!"

Miaka? Prickles of recognition were creeping through, she had been called that before. Miaka. It was her name; how had she forgotten it? She mouthed it, lips, teeth, and tongue taking back that which had been taken from her once before. It jolted her and the buzzing became a whine, its pitch screaming danger.

"_Miaka!_" the voice again, sounding a little more desperate and a little bit closer. "Open up!"

"I don't know how," she called, shaken, turning blindly through the grayness obscuring her vision. She had forgotten her own name. What else could she not remember? Fear clawed at her gut.

"You have to bring the door to you. Concentrate! Call it!"

She tried, but the rising panic made her shake. She couldn't leave, she _couldn't,_ it was safe here. "No no no no _no_!" she screamed, sinking to the ground with her hands over her ears, wishing she had never tried to find the source of the hateful voice. "I can't leave, they'll hurt me again, I can't let them find me.." she trailed off, whimpering with the effort of willing the voice to_go away_.

"Please! You must! I know you want to be safe, and I promise you we'll protect you. But you _must_ come out," it said, gentler this time. She could hear compassion in the voice and it brought tears to her eyes. She raised a shaking hand to her cheek, wonderingly. How long had it been she she last cried, or felt anything? Did she want to stay in a place where she couldn't feel? The voice said it would protect her. She believed it, although she couldn't understand why. She sniffled, balled her hands into fists, raised up from the gray floor.

She took one hesitant step forward, then another, closed her eyes and_called_ the door with as much force as she could muster.

When she peeked through her lashes, she was standing in front of a large wooden door. She reached for the plain brass knob but paused as her skin made contact. "I'm scared," she confessed to the voice.

"I know," it answered.

"They hurt me," she whispered, not entirely sure who _they_ were.

"I know," it repeated.

"I should know who you are, shouldn't I?"

"I'm sure you still do," it replied soothingly. "It just may take some time to recover those memories, no da."

Miaka felt the same light touch of recognition that had accompanied her own name, but it was still too faint to grasp. It made her feel better anyway, knowing that some echoes of the memories were there, and she had been right to trust her own intuition and the voice.

"You said you would protect me?" she queried, wrapping her fingers around the cold knob.

"I always will," the voice assured her, and she turned the knob.

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Chichiri broke the connection, using both of his hands to brace himself against the sandy ground. A groan escaped his lips before he could stop it, and his exhausted arms shook with the effort of keeping himself semi-upright. Still, he couldn't rest until he knew Miaka had made it back successfully. She sat facing him, their knees slightly touching, just as they had before he journeyed into her mind, but her eyes remained closed and her body showed no signs of awareness. He studied her carefully, wondering if she could have gotten lost while traveling through the madness within her psyche.

Had someone asked him, a week ago, if his respect for the miko could be any greater, he would have denied it. He held her in such esteem that he would not have believed it possible to raise his estimation. That was, however, before experiencing firsthand the strength of her spirit and resourcefulness. Although he was sure it was not deliberate, Miaka had been able to achieve the one thing that had saved herself from madness. She had partitioned her mind and allowed her essence to retreat, where it had remained in a form of stasis. She was still affected by the treatments and procedures her world's physicians had inflicted on her, but she was able to block the worst of it. She was still sane because of it. Chichiri felt nothing short of awe when he considered how capable Miaka truly was. He had wanted to weep when Miaka stepped out from behind that partition, fear and resolve warring within her luminous green eyes. He understood the courage necessary for such a move; that she did so before she recovered any memories of the person coming to bring her out only deepened the substantial respect he held for her.

Once she had stepped out of her haven, he had anchored Miaka to him using the last of his energy and pulled them forward, out of the farthest reaches of her subconscious. The rest was her fight as she struggled to gain dominance over the madness he had first become mired in upon connecting with her being. It could take minutes or years, but Miaka was so much stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for. He had done everything he could for her, now all that was left was to have faith.

He lay back on the ground, unable to support himself any longer. Connecting with Miaka had taken the last bit of strength he had, and then some. What he needed now was rest, and he began to wish he hadn't sent Tasuki out foraging. It wouldn't do for him to fall asleep with no one around to supervise the miko.

He kept his good eye turned to her, blinking when she began to fade out or double, but he observed no signs of improvement.

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Tasuki wiped the sweat from his brow and paused to take a drink from his waterskin. The sun was high in the sky by the time he made it back to the edge of the forest, but his pouch was full of the requested five-flavor fruit, along with wild millet, a few cucumbers, more calabash, several yams, black mushrooms, and half a dozen apricots. He might not have a clue where they were, but they wouldn't starve.

He was close enough to hear the river now, so the camp must be just through the small copse of trees. Whistling merrily, he was totally unprepared for what he saw when he emerged from the dense growth.

Chichiri was down on the ground, unmoving, and Miaka was standing over him, a look of horror on her face as she stared at the prone monk. Tasuki swore and ran towards him. He dove to his knees next to the the seishi and checked his pulse, lifted his eyelids and peered into his face.

"Is he ok?" a small, feminine voice asked, and he replied, relieved, "Yeah, he's just sleepin', that's all. Dunno why, but-_what_? Miaka!" His head whipped around so quickly that he lost balance and toppled over next to Chichiri.

Hesitant green eyes met his. "He... I should know who he is... he helped me. But when I awoke, he was just laying here like this, and I... where are we?"

His eyes narrowed as he considered her statement. "You don't know who he is," he stated, perplexed.

"I should. He said I did, but I just didn't remember... at least, I _think_ he did. Everything's...fuzzy." Miaka looked close to tears, so Tasuki patted the ground next to him in invitation and stretched his legs out.

"I can imagine it would be, an' as for where we are, I'm guessin' we're somewhere in China, but don't ask me where yet because I got no clue. This is where we landed, an' I ain't done much explorin' on account of keepin' an eye on you and Chiri."

"Chiri? Is that his name?" Miaka's brow furrowed and he cursed silently, wondering how much he should tell her.

"Chichiri, an' I'm Tasuki. I'm guessin' ya don't remember me either?" _Chiri, what the fuck happened while I was gone!_

Miaka shook her head, looking so sad and lost that Tasuki had to stop himself from putting an arm around her. _She don't know ya, remember what happened last time when you went pawin' her!_

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much of anything. We were friends?"

"Yeah, we were, and we still are, even if ya can't remember it yet! You, me, and Chiri, we had some adventures together. I'm sure you'll remember before long, so don't ya worry."

She didn't look convinced, so he gave his best fanged grin and changed the subject. "Looks like he'll be out for a while, so whadda ya say we get ourselves somethin' ta eat. We can talk more while we're takin' care of our bellies."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: The paraphrase " eclipse and predominate the whole of her sex", which I've attributed to Chichiri, is actually Dr. Watson's from A Scandal in Bohemia by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He is referring, of course, to Irene Adler, although I think Miaka is equally deserving of the praise._

Miaka listened carefully to the steady stream of chatter the redhead- Tasuki, his name was- kept up during both the meal preparation and later, as they ate. She had hoped to glean something about her current predicament from the ceaseless verbal barrage, but for all that Tasuki kept talking, he wasn't saying _anything_ at all.

She frowned, staring into the bowl of millet, trying to piece together the fragments of memory floating through her thoughts. Try as she might, every time she tried to focus on a name, a face, a reminiscence, it turned into a hazy wisp, and the harder she tried to hold on, the faster it dissipated. It was beginning to strain her already frayed nerves.

She focused her attentions back on the babbling male, since her introspections were getting her nowhere. He was relating a tale of swimming lessons with Chichiri, colorfully peppered with profanity and snarky aspersions on the monk's parentage. Once or twice he threw in some wild hand gestures, glancing at her sideways to see if she was being entertained. Not wanting to disappoint, she smiled and forced a small giggle. His face brightened and he gave her a dazzling smile before continuing the narrative, and she was glad to have made the effort.

They really must be friends, she decided. His body was relaxed and his movements at ease, almost lazy, and he certainly was comfortable enough in her presence not to bother tempering his language, which was becoming more raucous by the second as he related the harrowing experience of being tossed into deep water by Chichiri and left to flounder. He broke off from the story to glare darkly at the sleeping monk, and Miaka found she didn't have to fake a laugh this time.

He fell silent then, and Miaka closed her eyes, tipped her head back to feel the late summer sun on her cheeks. For some reason, the gesture make her think it had been a long time since she'd had the simple pleasure of sitting outside in the fresh air and sunshine. The recollection washed over her, made her blood run cold and her breath burst from her lungs as through she'd been punched...

_got to get away can't let them find me can't let them take me again i won't go back i won't go back I WON'T GO BACK_

...and as she came back to herself, her hands were fisted into the soil and she was thrashing and _screaming_, her throat hoarse with terror, and she was caught firmly in two strong arms, pressed against a warm chest, safe, safe, blessedly _safe_. Her whole body was heaving with sobs and she clutched at the arms wrapped around her, leaving dirty smears on the cloth covering them.

"Don't let them find me," she choked out, desperately needing to know that these men would protect her.

"Never," the voice swore, low and fierce, and she felt the rumble in his chest, against her cheek.

She heard the crunch of footsteps on pebbles, and the blue-haired monk dropped to his knees in front of her. "You're safe now, Miaka. They can't find you here," he said, his tone calm and soothing.

She stared up into his face, at the jagged, thick scar that cut across his eye, at the dark half moon under his good eye. His skin was pale, his expression haggard. She had woken him up, she realized, with her screaming. He had to be exhausted, after he...

..._was in her mind, coaxing her out, his hand outstretched, a reassuring smile on his face_...

"It was you," she breathed, the realization causing her to sag against the man who still held her tightly. "I didn't dream it. You were inside my mind."

She felt Tasuki's quick intake of breath as Chichiri nodded slowly. "Yes. Although I apologize for the intrusion, I can't say I'm sorry to have done it. It's good to see you again, Miaka." He smiled warmly at her and she felt a rush of affection for this strange man who had saved her from herself. She moved to stand up, and Tasuki helped her gently to her feet, concern radiating from him in waves. She gave him a brief smile of thanks before turning to the monk.

"I thank you, Chichiri, for what you've done, although I'm still not sure... what exactly you saved me from... but I sense that it was something horrible." She bowed deeply to the blue-haired man, hoping it was adequate to express her gratitude.

Chichiri shrugged off her thanks. "I'm just glad to have you back with us, no da," he said simply.

"Can you tell me.." she asked hesitantly, but Chichiri was already shaking his head firmly.

"I'm sorry, Miaka. I know it's not easy, but I think it's best if your memories come back naturally, no da, although there are some things that can aid with that."

She had expected it, but still struggled to keep the disappointment from bringing tears to her eyes. "I understand," she murmured, blinking rapidly.

"Aw, Chiri, we can't tell her nothin' at all?" Tasuki looked almost as let down as she felt.

Chichiri seemed lost in though, so Miaka took a few deep breaths to calm herself and approached Tasuki instead. "Do you think I could... um... is there someplace I could bathe?"

"Oh. Um. Yeah. There's some stuff for ya in that bag, soap an' all. The water ain't too cold, but there's a strong enough current that you'll need ta be careful, so don't go too far, k?" He pointed to the small black suitcase that looked decidedly out of place in the unspoiled natural environment.

"Thanks, Tasuki." Was that a blush on his face? She tilted her head to get a better look, but he was already turning away, so she went to check out the suitcase.

The toiletries she found only increased her confusion. They were vaguely familiar to her- body wash, shampoo, deodorant, bar soap- but they seemed otherworldly to her in a way that she just couldn't explain. _Just add it to the list, Miaka_, she though bitterly, frustrated by her own mental limitations. She grabbed the products and a clean change of clothing, then hurried off to find a place to preform her ablutions and have a good cry.

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Chichiri waited until he no longer heard the sounds from Miaka's departure before he sighed and looked up at his fellow seishi with a bleary eye. "Say it," he sounded resigned but resolved. Tasuki had been glaring at him ever since Miaka's admission that she remembered. He should count himself lucky, he supposed, that the bandit had waited until Miaka was away to let loose.

"You were in her mind? Damn it all, Chiri! We just got her out of there cause people were all mucking about with her head, an' then ya go and do th' same damn thing!"

Chichiri started to respond, but Tasuki cut him off. "I'm not sayin' it's the same thing, cause ya were tryin' to help her an' all. I know that. It's just... I dunno. How much more is she supposed ta take? I'm glad ya helped her, but I'm here yellin' at ya for it."

Chichiri cleared his throat to get Tasuki's attention, but the bandit plowed on ahead.

"I guess I woulda felt better about it if ya woulda told me what ya were gonna do, ya know? Ya sent me off to go pick _berries_ an' shit an' when I got back ya were laid out flat and she was standin' over ya, lookin' scared shitless. I didn't know _what_ the fuck was goin' on."

Chichiri opened his mouth to speak, but the bandit wasn't finished. "An' then you're all snorin' over there, just sleepin' like a baby, and I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do, cause she didn't remember anythin', even us, and I was afraid I was just gonna fuck her up even worse by sayin' something I shouldn't have, so I just babbled on like an idiot..." Tasuki finally ran out of steam, and at the perfect place, Chichiri snickered inwardly. The bandit seemed to realize that he was babbling on "like an idiot" for the second time today, and he scowled at Chichiri.

"Oh, can I speak now?" the monk asked.

"Shaddup," the flame haired seishi huffed, dropping down to the ground.

"I understand why my actions were less than ideal, and I've apologized to Miaka for the intrusion. However, I felt it was a calculated risk, no da. I didn't know if it would work, and I didn't want to get your hopes up if she was beyond my help." Chichiri leaned against the large rock Tasuki had used to prepare the meal on. "I offer my apologies to you as well, for not telling you what I'd planned," he explained, contrite. "It was difficult magic, and I wasn't sure I'd even be able to do it in my weakened condition. I thought it was for the best that you didn't know."

"Yeah, well," Tasuki said ruefully, rubbing a hand over his face, "It prob'ly was, all things considered. I'da just got in the way or somethin'." He quirked up the corner of his mouth, exposing one fang, and Chichiri knew he'd been forgiven.

"Did you collect the five flavor fruit, no da?" he asked, stretching his arm behind his head, letting the rock support him.

Tasuki fetched the leather pouch and poured the contents into one of the makeshift bowls. He shook it a few times before passing it over to Chichiri. The monk glanced at the berries, then jerked his chin towards the rock he was leaning against. "That's enough for quite a while. We're lucky they're so plentiful around here. Spread them out up there and use the tessen to dry them out, no da. Just a bit of heat, don't scorch them. I'll grind them up with you're done, or you can do it if you want. The powder is helpful for many things, including clearing the mind. I'm hoping it'll help cut through the fog that's obfuscating Miaka's memories, no da."

"Obfu_what_?"

Chichiri chuckled. "Nevermind. Just don't burn the berries, no da."

His eyes drifted closed as Tasuki called forth a small flickering flame and waved it carefully over the small fruit. He was close to sleep when Tasuki called his name, and he smothered a yawn.

"Hmm?"

"What was it like?" Tasuki sounded somewhat embarrassed, and it took the monk a moment longer than usual to put two and two together.

"What was what like? Oh, being in Miaka's mind?"

"Yeah... I mean, if it's ok ta tell me. It seems almost wrong ta be askin', but..." Chichiri couldn't see Tasuki's expression from his angle, but he saw the rise and fall of the bandit's shoulder as the younger man shrugged.

"No, it's ok. It _is_ rather intimate, merging with someone in that manner, but it's more an absorbing of emotions or sensations, rather than actual memories, no da. I don't know anything more about Miaka than she's told me, but I do know that she's capable of far more than any of us ever gave her credit for."

"Like strength an' all?"

"Yes, and depth of emotion. Her capacity for caring surpasses any I've ever encountered. She's an extraordinary person."

The bandit's voice sounded gruff. "Yeah, she is."

"Suzaku chose well," Chichiri noted.

"Well,_ yeah_. He's a god. Whadda ya expect?" Tasuki gave an amused snort as he moved his tessen back and forth over the rock.

It was Chichiri's turn to shrug. "Not all of the mikos have been successful, no da. Some have been too immature, or they were easily misguided. Was their failing that of the gods, of their seishi, or of their own?"

Tasuki was quiet for a moment, and Chichiri let his eye close once more, when the bandit asked, so quietly that he almost missed it. "Does it really matter in the end?"

"No," he answered drowsily, "I don't suppose it does."

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Tasuki let his gaze scan the horizon as he ran the edge of his tessen over the fruit scattered on the rock. Chichiri thought they might help Miaka, so he was careful to keep the flame low, but to be honest, it was rather boring work. Miaka'd been gone for a while now, and while he wasn't exactly worried yet- he remembered her love for long baths from traveling with her years ago- his senses were on full alert. Almost without realizing it, he had positioned himself in such a way to watch the river, in case Miaka would get swept downstream by the current, as well as the copse of trees which hid her from view, in case she came walking back through, rather than exit via the riverbank.

He realized he was sweeping the camp for danger and wryly shook his head. Once a seishi, always a seishi. It surprised him how quickly he had fallen into the habits of over a decade ago. But then again, doing what he could to protect Miaka came as naturally to him as breathing, as living, as loving her. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was why he'd been unable to fall in love with any other woman- divided loyalties and all. He'd tried, back when Miaka had first went back to her world. Where he had always avoided women as being too much trouble, he began to seek them out, some part of his twisted little mind hoping that he would find Miaka wasn't all that extraordinary, that other women had that special something that made him, a self-proclaimed women-hater, tumble head over heels. He didn't, and they didn't. He was lucky to get past the first hour in the company of the women he met, and he was forced to admit before the month was out that Miaka really did "eclipse and predominate the whole of her sex," as Chiri once said on one of the rare occasions he'd gotten the monk to cut loose and have some sake. Never mind that the monk had still been maddeningly sober when he'd said it. Fancy words aside, it fit.

He shaded his eyes with one hand as the other swept back and forth. Even after the events of the past few days, he was hard-pressed to believe that she was just beyond the small grove of trees. She was probably in the river right now, her hair piled on top of her head, held in place with a smooth stick, her neck and shoulders tantalizingly exposed, water trickling down in rivulets over creamy flesh, fragrant lather cascading along slippery skin...

Shit. He was burning the berries. He dropped the tessen with a clatter, blew frantically on the fruit and waved his hands over the charred areas. _Fucking fantasies_, he grumbled, reigning his thoughts in, fiercely determined not to think of Miaka bathing, small droplets clinging to her skin, begging to be kissed off...

_No_. No more. He plucked up the worst of the burned berries, chucked them over his shoulder. There was still plenty of the small five flavor fruit, so he hadn't totally botched the job. He cut his eyes guiltily over to the monk, but Chiri was propped against the rock, sound asleep. Good, no one had seen his slip. Hell, even if they had, they wouldn't know why. _Get a grip, Tasuki_! _Yer getting' all paranoid_.

And speaking of paranoia... Miaka was takin' a really long time. Worry was starting to gnaw at him, and besides, who knew what sort of wild beasts were out roaming about? Never mind that he hadn't heard any screams or sounds of a struggle. Something didn't feel right, and for all that he kept getting clobbered by Nuriko back in the day, he did have a good instinct when something was wrong.

He called out, made plenty of noise stomping through the dense forest floor as he approached the area of the river Miaka had headed towards. "Hey, Mi-chan! Ya decent?"

"Yes, I'm just sitting here," she called back, and when he broke through the last of the trees separating them he could see the slight hitch of her back. She'd been crying.

Well, shit. He'd never been good with crying females. They tended to bring the first stirrings of panic into the bandit's chest, and that just pissed him off. Miaka had once told him that not all tears were sad tears, but how the fuck was he supposed to tell the difference? Crying was crying was crying and he didn't know how to deal with any of it.

Solution: make it stop.

"I wondered if ya might want ta take a walk. I saw somethin' earlier ya might enjoy seein', if it's still there."

"What is it?" Miaka splashed water on her face, dried off with a fluffy towel before turning to him.

"Ya hafta come along if ya want to know. I ain't spoilin' the surprise," he tried for a mildly affronted tone and hid a grin of his own when she smiled.

She leaned down and laced up the tennis shoes Yui had supplied. Tasuki grimaced, wiggled his toes in his soft traveling boots. How could she stand those things? Still, she seemed to like them for some reason. He'd have to look into getting a pair of supple leather boots for her if she stayed...

..._if she stayed_. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before this. Miaka was here, in his world, with no way to return to her own- as far as he knew- without being locked up again. Was it possible that she could be staying? Would Taiitsukun have them rescue her, do what they could to heal her, and still send her back?

Yes, he decided, the crazy old bat probably would, but she'd be doing it over his dead body. Being Miaka's seishi meant he would protect her no matter what, and he couldn't do that if she was sent back to her world alone, full of crazy doctors who ran around locking people up and messing with their heads. Fuck that. If he had any say in it at all, Miaka was staying _right here_.

Giddiness flooded through him, and he did a little dance, right where he stood. Miaka was here, and she was _back_, and...

"Tasuki?"

...she was looking at him like he was a few grains short of a rice bowl. The urge to dance abruptly fled and he felt his cheeks redden under her inquisitive stare.

"Um, I had a stone in my boot. Was just trying to shake it out," he muttered. He glanced at her, figuring she would be laughing at him, but instead she was gazing steadily at him, a small smile curving her lips and her eyes expressive and shining.

"Well. Let's go then," he offered his arm to her and she took it quietly, allowing him to lead her up the path and away from the river.

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After a quick stop at the camp to drop of Miaka's bath supplies, they'd had a leisurely walk through the woods. Tasuki was a good companion, she decided. She recognized that he was trying to lift her spirits and was surprised to discover it was working. He'd told her funny stories from his travels around the country- he even knew the Emperor- and pointed out various edible plants, interesting flowers, and animal tracks. He seemed to be an experienced woodsman, and she wondered what else she had once known and forgotten about the kind-hearted man who had vowed to protect her.

Well, whatever the case, she was learning plenty now. From his stories, she could tell that he knew how to use a sword, although he preferred the tessen he wore strapped over one tanned shoulder. He knew how to handle a bow too, and he'd lost companions in a past war, although he had very little to say about it. He was a physical person, that much she could tell just by sweeping her gaze over his toned, muscular frame, taking in lean, taut masculinity underneath silk tunic and breeches, tanned skin and fiery hair.

Oh my. It had suddenly gotten much warmer. Maybe that's why her mouth was so dry.

Tasuki stopped suddenly, grabbed her hand in his larger one to still her, and lifted their conjoined hands to gesture overhead. "There it is, that's what we came ta see," he whispered, staring up in the branches of a tree.

Miaka followed his gaze, peering up through leaf canopy and shadows, seeking Tasuki's surprise. When she finally spotted it, she couldn't stop the gasp of delight.

Perched precariously in the branches overhead, two paws dangling down, was a small, furry, raccoon-like creature. It was sound asleep, a small pink tongue poking out as a slight wind ruffled the reddish-brown fur. A fluffy ringed tail was draped over the branch.

"It's a red panda," Tasuki leaned closer to murmur. "They used'ta be all over tha place, but it's been awhile since I've seen one. I was surprised ta find this one here this mornin'."

"It's adorable!"

"Well, they're just furry annoyances, but they're kinda cute an' all," Tasuki sounded pleased, and Miaka felt a warm glow spreading through her, that this man, who'd been so kind under all the brash talk, obviously wanted to please her. He made her feel human again, even though she couldn't remember anything before this morning. She wanted him to know how much that meant to her, but she couldn't find the words, so instead, she squeezed his hand, still holding hers, and leaned her head to rest against his shoulder.

She felt him tense for a fraction of a second, before he turned his head so his cheek was brushing the top of her head. They stayed like that for a few moments more, watching the slumbering panda, before reluctantly breaking contact and heading back to camp.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: The song verse quoted is from **Guinevere** by Lucy Kaplansky, used with permission. Why would Miaka know American folk music? Creative license, my friends. But it was begging to be used, since it is the best song about a love triangle that I've ever heard. As soon as I made the connection between the song and this story, I started thinking- Oooh! Miaka as Guinevere, Tamahome as Lancelot, Hotohori as King Arthur, Chichiri as Merlin, Yui as Morgaine, Chiriko as Galahad, Mitsukake as Bedivere, Nuriko as Percival, and Tasuki as Gawaine... I'm not kidding, I had the whole cast mapped out. It's a plot bunny of massive proportions, and now I'm itching to get to work on it as a reincarnation fic that deals with the idea of repeated incarnations. Gah. I barely have time to write this one as it is._

Tasuki swore under his breath and pushed his weight against the rock in his hand, twisting it with a vengeance. He'd hoped to work off some of his tension by grinding the five flavor fruit into powder as Chichiri directed, but so far all it was doing was pissing him off. The hard berries were resisting the majority of his efforts, and his arm was beginning to ache.

The source of the aforementioned tension was sitting a few feet away, staring into the flames of a small fire, seemingly oblivious to his existence. She was humming softly and singing a few words here and there, a tune that Tasuki didn't recognize, but he enjoyed the sound of it just the same. Kouji had once joked that unless it was a bandit song sung over a jug of sake, Tasuki was unable to appreciate it. It wasn't too far off the mark. After listening to Amiboshi's flute nonstop for several days and dealing with the accompanying fallout, Tasuki usually kept his distance from anything even remotely musical. It surprised him when he realized that he had been straining to hear the melody of Miaka's song, and Tasuki didn't like surprises unless he was the one perpetuating them.

Truth was, he was unnerved by Miaka's behavior that day. Sure, she had been a lot more subdued than he remembered, but that was to be expected, and she was still as kindhearted as ever. No, what had unsettled him was the sheer affection she had bestowed on him. He had known of that side of her, a decade ago, but the recipient of said affections had always been Tamahome. Not that she was flinging herself into his arms, repeating his name every few seconds and expecting him to reciprocate, but she had definitely been more physically demonstrative than he remembered her being with anyone who didn't have a big glowing oni on his forehead. Last he had checked, the yoku had not changed places, so what gave? And it wasn't just happiness at seeing him again, cause she didn't even remember him! So he was well and truly baffled- not a new emotion by any means, but still not one he appreciated.

He wished Chichiri would wake the fuck up already.

Tasuki gave the stone a violent push, winced as he caught his finger between the makeshift mortar and pestle. He was worried about the monk. He'd never seen him so drained, not during the war-ravaged time when their friends were dropping like flies, not in the fragile aftermath when citizens were stretched so thin they were liable to snap at the least provocation. Seeing Chiri collapsed, leaving himself totally defenseless scared the hell out of the bandit, but while he gained a new worry, his original fear was soothed. Chiri wouldn't have left himself so open if he didn't believe they were somewhere safe. So he may not know where in the seven hells they were, but Chichiri must have, so they'd just wait until his fellow seishi was recovered, then they'd be on their merry little way. But to where? Mount Taikyoku? Mount Reikaku? The little fishing village where Chichiri had finally settled down? Somewhere outside of Konan where they wouldn't be known? None of the solutions he came up with sounded plausible. He decided to put it out of his mind, let Chiri take care of that part.

Another of Miaka's melodies reached him, her rich, throaty voice bringing intimacy to their surroundings, and Tasuki stifled a groan. She was going to kill him with her voice alone, either that or he was going to march over there, yank her to her feet and take her mouth with his, amnesia and Tamahome be damned.

He dropped the rock with a clatter, dusted small bits of berry from his hands, and raised his voice to be heard by the fire. "Hey, Mi-chan. How come yer rememberin' songs an' not anythin' else?"

Even from his distance, he could see her back stiffen, and he regretted his question. "I... I'm not sure, really. They're just there, some of them. And others, I'm just making up as I go along."

"So ya make songs. That's a talent." He abandoned the berries and his resolve to keep his distance and joined her by the fire, but purposely sat on the other side of the blaze.

Miaka shrugged, a small smile on her face. "I don't know if I'm good at it. But it's easier to sing the feeling out than let them fester inside." She toyed with her hair, wrapping the strands around her fingers.

He could understand that. She sang, he started bar fights or torched something with his tessen. Her way seemed a little less satisfying, but he supposed she wouldn't take very well to his method, so that was ok.

"I wonder if ya play an instrument too," he pondered aloud.

"I think I do. I can't be sure, it's just a feeling really, but it seems to fit." She was looking in his direction, her face thoughtful, chewing on her lower lip.

Tasuki watched her small teeth worry the pink flesh and had to shift slightly. How could anyone be so completely oblivious to how their own actions affected others? He had dreamed of a moment like this- Miaka back in his world, a non-existent Tamahome, starlight and fire, and now that she was here before him, he was powerless. He wanted her, in his arms and in his bed, but no matter how he tried to justify it, he couldn't act on it. Not now, regardless of how affectionate she had been, with her memory missing, with no knowledge of how much she loved Tamahome. He just couldn't do it, and it was slowly killing him.

Silence fell between them, Miaka staring back into the flames and Tasuki staring at Miaka. The night had turned chilly, a sharp contrast to the heat earlier in the day, and he could see her shiver slightly. He stood, quietly moved over to her side and dropped his coat over her shoulders. She glanced up at him, startled, and he shrugged. "Yer shivering," he explained.

"Thank you," she answered quietly.

He nodded and moved back to his previous seat. Quiet stretched over between them once more, and it was beginning to grate on Tasuki's nerves. He searched for a way to break it. "Would ya sing me somethin'?"

"Pardon?"

He wondered grimly how many times he was going to startle her, and he began to worry that she was retreating into herself once more. "I haven't heard anyone sing anything beside fightin' songs in a long time. So I wanna hear somethin' else, if ya don't mind singin' it for me." _I wanna see if I can keep you in the here-and-now, and make you remember somethin' too. Don't go all shy on me now._

"Oh. Alright. I really can't remember much, just bits and pieces mainly. But there is one song that I've always loved, based on the legend of King Arthur of England, and I think I remember most of it."

Tasuki had no idea who or what King Arthur and England were, but he just waved a hand impatiently. Miaka did have a pretty voice, so it wouldn't be a hardship to listen to her sing a tune.

She thought a moment, and then began, her voice hesitant at first but quickly growing strong and sure.

He leaned back, closed his eyes and savored the sound. And nearly choked when she reached the second verse.

"A_m I some dancing Lancelot who only falls in love  
With a woman who belongs to someone else  
Is it just the blood of Paris running through my veins  
That sees a taken woman and myself I can't restrain_

_Is this knight of cups in his noble stance  
Just a jack of clubs with an eye askance  
On the queen of hearts in her royal blue  
I may shield the poor but I can't save you_"

There was more, but all he heard were those two damning verses echoing over and over within his mind. When Miaka ended the song, all he could think of was getting away. _I'm so sorry, Tama._ He felt unclean, unworthy of being anywhere near her, and he scrambled to his feet as fast as he could without pitching over.

"I gotta get a bath. Ya should get some sleep."

And he retreated like a coward, breaking into a run as soon as he could out of the firelight.

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Miaka was thoroughly disgusted with herself. She had no idea what had happened to make Tasuki bolt like the all demons of hell were on his heels, but he had been fine before she started singing so it had to be something she'd sang. She started to follow him, to apologize, when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, keeping her from rising. A scream rose in her throat, but before it escaped, Chichiri's voice reached her ears.

"You sing beautifully, Miaka."

She gulped, gave a shaky laugh and tried to calm her racing heart. "Tasuki didn't think so."

The hand on her shoulder patted it comfortably. "Don't mind him, no da. He has his own troubles to sort through." Chichiri settled down next to her, set a cup of water on one of the stones ringing the fire pit.

"I didn't meant to make him angry," she said, feeling miserable.

Chichiri's laugh was gentle. "You didn't, don't worry. Tasuki doesn't run from angry, no da."

As comfort, it was scant, but she did feel a little better. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I woke on my own. I've spent the greater part of the day asleep, so I decided I should eat a bit, get my strength up for the trip we'll be taking."

"Will we be going home, then?" Miaka asked, not even sure where home was.

"We'll be going to see... ah... an old friend. And from there, it depends." The monk poked the side of the makeshift cup, frowned, and scooted it closer to the fire.

She didn't ask what it depended on. She ran a finger through the light top soil, sneaking a peek at Chichiri's face. "I'm not from here, am I?" she queried, and was gratified to see a slight widening of his eye, before the calm placidness overtook his expression once more.

"No," he agreed. "You're not from here. How do you know?"

"Everything feels remotely familiar, like I've been here before, but I get this sensation of, I don't know how to put it, otherworldliness, maybe." She wrapped her arms around her knees and snuggled deeper into Tasuki's coat.

"That's a good way to describe it," Chichiri replied blandly. "Any other impressions, no da?"

"No. Just that feeling. I can remember some songs, I _think_ I may play an instrument, I like fragrance in general, gardenia in particular. And that's the extend of who I am at the moment." Her mouth twisted bitterly. _And I can't stop thinking of Tasuki, as a man, even though it's clear I'm just his friend... or worse, his little sister. What's wrong with me_?

Chichiri looked pleased. "You remembered your favorite scent?"

Miaka gave a short, sad laugh. "No, I guessed. The body wash and shampoo are gardenia."

"Ah." Chichiri tested the water once more. Finding it to his liking, he sprinkled a powder into the cup, swirled it around and handed it to her. "Drink it all, no da."

She sniffed the tea, wrinkled her nose at the bitter aroma. "What is it?"

"Medicine. It helps with mental clarity, so I'm hoping it can help you recover your memories, no da."

Miaka drank the bitter brew while Chichiri served himself from the food Tasuki had prepared earlier in the evening. She waiting by the fire, chatting with Chichiri, until her eyelids began to droop and the monk threatened to drag her to her bedroll if she didn't go to bed immediately.

Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed the monk's cheek. "Thank you, Chichiri."

His hand came up to brush her cheek. "Anytime, no da."

She headed off to her bed feeling better about Tasuki's abrupt exit, a slight smile on her lips over the prospect of regaining her memories. Wrapped up in the anticipation, she missed seeing the firelight gleam off the red hair of the bandit who had witnessed the kiss.

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Chichiri knew that Tasuki had witnessed the chaste kiss Miaka had placed on his cheek the night before. It wasn't hard to tell when the bandit had stormed past, thrown him a look that could kill, and dropped in his bedroll without a word to either of them. He'd hoped that Tasuki had slept off the worst of his temper, but it wasn't to be. Upon rising, the hotheaded seishi had snarled in his direction and stomped over to the fire, where Chichiri had breakfast cooking.

He smothered a grin. Tasuki was too easy.

Miaka rose not long after Tasuki, and Chichiri served her the tea while inquiring solicitously after her rest. Amber eyes shot daggers at his back. He peered into Miaka's eyes, looking for signs of allergic reaction to the five flavor fruit, and knew that smoke was probably pouring out of the bandit's ears.

Miaka's eyes cut past his shoulder, then widened when they caught sight of the ferocious look on Tasuki's face. Her glance shot back to Chichiri's. He just shrugged infinitesimally and leaned to whisper in her ear, "I think someone's a bit out of sorts this morning, no da."

Behind him, he heard a crack and a quick swear as Tasuki's white knuckled grip snapped his makeshift chopsticks in two.

Miaka, with the courage of ten women, ventured close to Tasuki and wished him a good morning. To the bandit's credit, he didn't snap at the woman, but he also couldn't meet her eyes, a dull flush staining his cheeks as he continued to eat, using much shorter chopsticks. So that was the way the wind blew.

Chichiri nodded to himself, waiting until Miaka was absorbed in eating, then met Tasuki's glare with a gesture towards the river. The seishi didn't give any sign of acquiescence, but Chichiri knew he'd seen and would respond.

He was seated by the water a short while later when he heard Tasuki's footsteps crunching on the rocks. Better to get it over with, before Fang Boy starts foaming at the mouth. His lips quirked in a grin, and he deliberately kept his back to the angry man. "You have something to say, no da?"

"Yer supposed ta be a _monk_, for fuck's sake! What're ya doing, kissing on Miaka?" Tasuki exploded, his fists clenched and his whole body quivering with barely suppressed fury.

"So you do still love her. I wondered, no da." He trailed the tips of his fingers in the water, enjoyed the feel of it rushing around his skin.

_"____Yes_, I- ___NO_!- I mean- aww,___fuck_ it." The bandit ground out, sounding pained by his admission. Tasuki's foot drew back and kicked, sending a shower of small pebbles plunking into the water. Ah, that was better. Even in anger, his fellow seishi had been careful that none of the stones struck him. So it was just a tantrum, and not a serious accusation.

"What you saw was perfectly innocent, you know. You really need to stop jumping to conclusions." Chichiri pivoted on the balls of his feet and gave Tasuki a look of stern disapproval.

The younger seishi glared back, but broke off the contact with a huff and bowed his head in admission. He crouched next to Chichiri and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Don't I know it," he muttered, chagrined.

The monk was pleased to see that Tasuki had the good grace to be embarrassed by his behavior. It cost Tasuki to make the concession, he knew, so Chichiri waited for his friend to gain some composure, then asked astutely, "So what's really bothering you?"

Tasuki stared out at the water and didn't respond right away. When he did, all the fury from the morning was gone, leaving a bleakness around the bandit that contrasted with the happy-go-lucky way he usually carried himself. Chichiri knew his friend wore a mask every bit as much as he did, and he never failed to feel honored that Tasuki was willing to remove it in his presence. Their bond as seishi and friends ran so deeply that there was little use in emotional pretense. "Tama, I guess. Instead of worryin' where he is, I'm tryin' to get Miaka for myself. It feels disloyal or somethin', ya know? She's _his_ girl. I'm jus' some dumbfuck who wants what he can't have."

"Hmm." Chichiri steepled his fingers and narrowed his eye at Tasuki. "I disagree."

"How so?"

"Firstly, Miaka is her own woman. And we don't even know if Tamahome was reborn to her world. If he was not, and he no longer exists here, how can she be his?" The monk closed his eye, offered up a silent prayer that where ever Tamahome was, his spirit was at peace. "Loving another is not an act of betrayal, and I think if he couldn't be with Miaka himself, he'd want her to be happy. Unless you planned to make her miserable, that is, since you're 'jus' some dumbfuck' and all, no da?" Chichiri perfectly mimicked the bandit's cadence and inflection, and was gratified to see Tasuki smile briefly.

"Well, I can't make a move on her now. I mean, she may still be in love with him, an' it'd be unfair ta take advantage of her while she can't remember it." Tasuki scratched his head, then hastily amended, "Assuming she didn't beat the hell outta me again for tryin' somethin'."

"That's true," Chichiri concurred, inclining his head in agreement. "How are you going to deal with it in the meantime?"

"Whaddya mean?" Tasuki sounded perplexed.

"It's clear that she has some feelings for you." He smirked as Tasuki lost his balance and landed on his rear. "You'd have to be blind not to notice that she looks to you as a man. However," Chichiri said gleefully after dropping the observation in his friend's lap, "I trust you to do the right thing, no da. We should get back to camp. I want to leave for Mt. Taikyoku later today."

"In a minute," the bewildered bandit replied. "Chiri, I gotta ask, I know ya said ya'd vowed not ta have a woman but you could change yer mind, couldn't ya, so if you have, I'll back off, cause I don't want nuthin' comin' between us bein' friends an' all, an' ya both me so much ta me that I'd rather ya both be happy no matter what..." He trailed off, took a deep breath, tried again. "So, have ya?"

"Have I what?" Chichiri's brows were knitted together in confusion, trying to plod through Tasuki's stream of consciousness. He'd gotten lost somewhere around the part where Tasuki suggested he could decide to forsake his vows.

"Fallen in love with Miaka!" As he spoke the words, the yoku on Tasuki's arm flared to life and he clapped a hand over it, antsy as he waited for Chichiri's answer.

"What? _Oh_. No." He grinned over a a very relieved Tasuki. "I love Miaka dearly, no da, but it's not a romantic love. You have no worries there." Touched by Tasuki's offer to step aside and put his, Tasuki's, happiness on hold if it led to his fellow seishi's well-being, he reached over and clasped Tasuki's shoulder. "She's not meant for me, no da."

"Chiri," Tasuki's voice was hesitant, which captured his attention more fully than the use of his name ever could, "d'ya think there's someone out there that's meant for ya?"

At one time, the question would have struck like a punch to the gut. Now, it just brought a quiet, reflective acceptance. "Who knows what Suzaku has it mind for us, no da? Maybe there is. But I'm not looking, and I'm happy to continue on as I have been." He stared down into the water, its surface mirroring his scarred face as he leaned forward. "Although I find it hard to believe that any woman wouldn't be unnerved by this. He lifted his hand, let his fingers trail along the thick scar marring his face.

"Well, if she's unnerved, she jus' ain't the right one, that's all," Tasuki stated with rare insight.

Chichiri raised an eyebrow, but got to his feet, offering a hand to the redhead to help him up. "Hmm. Anyway, Miaka will be wondering where we are. We need to prepare to travel."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I hope everyone had a great holiday! I know I did. This chapter is most likely a little rougher than the others; I took several days off from writing so I could spend the time with my family, so forgive any glaringly bad grammar. I'm still not happy with this chapter but I'm going to let it stand for now and will edit the heck out of it later on. _

Miaka stared at the palace surrounding her and tried not to gawk. The echoing halls were cavernous and thus far, completely empty. She hadn't been quite sure what to expect from a friend of Chichiri's, but whatever it was, this was _not_ it. It made her feel very small and insignificant, and all the impersonal white stone made her vaguely apprehensive. She had the suspicion that she'd been somewhere like this in her empty past, and she wasn't entire appreciative of the awareness.

Tasuki seemed uncomfortable as well. His amber eyes were scanning the hallways rapidly, restless. She thought it odd that once he had checked all the visible areas, he started going over it all again, like he expected something to suddenly appear from nowhere. Well, why not? Hadn't they just popped in here in that same fashion, via Chichiri's amazing hat? Maybe this stretch of hallway was a way station of sorts, for travelers who were lucky enough to have a hat of their own, or maybe everyone here could teleport... but that was ridiculous. Obviously Tasuki couldn't, so it must be restricted to monks. Maybe this was a monastery. It certainly seemed quiet enough for one, and there was definitely an air of sanctity around the place.

It made sense. Chichiri seemed comfortable here. He rose from the kasa with a faint smile on his face, looking very much at home, although he'd already told Miaka he had a small house on the Dongting Lake. Still, Miaka thought Chichiri belonged here as well, as much as he did anywhere. She wanted to ask him about where they were, but it seemed wrong, somehow, to disturb the peace and solitude, even if it did leave her a little unnerved.

Tasuki had no such qualms, however. "So why ain't Grandma popped out at us yet? Seems a bit weird, her not bein' here and all after she's the one who sent us off ta go get...," the bandit grumbled, his arms folded obstinately across his chest. He trailed off after a sharp glare from Chichiri but still look put out.

_To go get me_? Miaka wondered, but said nothing. Whatever it was Tasuki was going to say, it was clear that Chichiri had not wanted it spoken. But why wouldn't Tasuki be happier at the prospect of seeing his grandmother, and why would she be the one to send anyone off to find her? She rubbed her fingertips on her temples, taking the edge off her rapidly-growing headache. Not a single thing was clear to her, and the more she thought, the less sense anything made.

"Miaka," Chichiri said softly, putting his hand briefly on her arm to capture her wandering attention. "I want to give you an idea of what might happen, so you won't be alarmed. The person we're here to see-"

"Won't be leaping at her out of any closets, so there's nothing to be alarmed about," a dry voice stated wryly behind Miaka. She spun around as Tasuki bit off a yelp, and Chichiri gave a sigh.

"She's- she's- ah, _floating_," Miaka stammered, her eyes wide, as she clutched Tasuki's arm. She could see him wince out of the corner of her vision, but felt unable to pry her traitorous fingers from his flesh.

"She is," the wrinkled, ancient woman cackled as ribbons swirled around her compact form. "Welcome back to Mt. Taikyoku, Suzaku no miko."

"Suzaku," Miaka whispered, wondering why the word caused a bolt of pure adrenaline to shoot through her veins. She'd heard it before, she was certain. She felt chilled, then overly warm, in the span of seconds, and in that safe, hidden place in the back of her mind, she heard the triumphant cry of a phoenix. That she knew it was a phoenix was just as mysterious, because as far as she knew, she'd never heard a phoenix before and certainly couldn't tell it's cry from that of any other bird. She shook her head to clear out the ringing echo, and managed to find her voice. "I'm sorry, it's obvious I should know who you are, but I'm afraid I don't remember much of anything right now. I hope you're not offended." She lowered her eyes respectfully and hoped she wasn't making an idiot of herself. Somehow, the aged women hovering before her commanded respect.

One wizened hand, liver spotted and heavily lined with age, reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet those of the strange woman. "Oh, child," the woman murmured softly, her eyes filled with sympathy and... grief? But before Miaka could wonder about what she saw, the hand dropped and the elderly form turned and floated briskly down the hallway. "Well? Are you waiting for a personal invitation? Move already!" the dry voice snapped, already several meters away, when it became clear the trio hadn't moved.

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Chichiri nudged Miaka forward, and the small group followed Taiitsukun down a maze of hallways, all as desolate and white as the first, before they came to her main chamber. He remembered spending countless hours here, kneeling on the floor until his bones ached, as Taiitsukun barked out instructions to "strengthen your _ki_! Protect yourself! You call that a shield?" And then she'd toss a blast at him that would knock him on his ass, already bruised with from prior attempts, before demanding that he do it all over again. Only the now-developed strength of his mental control kept him from wincing at the memory.

To say the room wasn't his favorite would be an understatement.

However, today he was pleased, eager even, to enter, because it meant that hopefully, Taiitsukun would be taking the burden of Miaka's amnesia from his hands. Chichiri would happily go to the ends of the earth for his miko, but the fragility of her condition frightened him. He knew that one wrong decision, one seemingly insignificant choice, could shatter her hold on reality forever, and he was terrified by that. He'd been in this position once before, between the proverbial rock and a hard place, and it had ended with Hikou's death. He'd made a choice, and had to live with the unbearable consequences. While he had come to grips with what had happened in his youth, Miaka was infinitely more precious to him. He was more than happy to pass on the responsibility, assuming Taiitsukun would let him, and concentrate on keeping Miaka happy and physically safe.

As if she heard his thoughts, Taiitsukun turned her head sharply and stared at him, pinning him where he stood with the strength of her probing gaze. She waved her hand, and cushions appeared before them, but Chichiri made no move to kneel, instead focusing on keeping his mind blank under the scrutiny of his former mentor.

She pursed her lips and focused on the thick, fibrous scar that cut across the left side of his face. He waited, expression impassive, until she murmured, "No, I think not," and turned her attentions to the bandit standing on the other side of Miaka. Chichiri felt a pang of sympathy as his fellow seishi fidgeted under Taiitsukun's steely gaze. Even after spending years under the wizened being's tutelage, he was still disconcerted by the power radiating from those narrowed eyes.

And then, abruptly, she spoke, folding her hands before her and directing her attentions to the woman standing beside him.

"You are correct, Miaka, when you say you know me. You know me as Taiitsukun, and I assisted you many years ago on a mission of some importance. Your mind is blocking those memories, as they relate somewhat directly to the extended trauma that has caused your current state of memory loss. I could have Nyan-Nyan bring those memories back, but I will not."

Tasuki stiffened. "Why th' hell not?" he ground out, outrage clear in his posture and expression.

Given the ferocity on his friend's face, Chichiri was relieved to hear the bandit's language was much milder than he expected. Tasuki was finally learning, he thought sardonically.

"Because, you impetuous hothead, I prefer Miaka with her sanity intact- or do you _want_ her to break under the weight of memories her mind is at present unable to handle?" Taiitsukun glared at the redhead, her tone stating clearly that she would tolerate no argument from the seishi standing before her.

"It's ok, Tasuki," Miaka said softly, brushing his arm with her fingertips. "I understand, and I agree with Taiitsukun that it's for the best."

Chichiri spoke up. "Taiitsukun, will Miaka recover her memories eventually, no da?"

"I believe it will be so, when she is stronger. They may come slowly, when she will be better equipped to deal with what she had been through. You are giving her schisandra?"

He nodded, and Tasuki interrupted suspiciously, "What's that?"

Chichiri shifted his attention to his friend in explanation. "The five flavor fruit, no da. Magnolia vine is also known as schisandra."

Taiitsukun nodded, satisfied, and directed her statement to Miaka. "Continue to take the tea twice a day, and pay attention to your dreams. I suspect it is there that your memories will first manifest. That's all." The Nyan-Nyan popped into existence next to Miaka and tugged her shirt sleeve.

"Come come! I'll show you to your rooms, bring you some food, have a bath run for you. Come come!"

As the trio turned away, Taiitsukun spoke once more. "Remain behind, Chichiri. You have something to discuss with me?"

He waved his friends away. "Go ahead, no da. I'll catch up to you in a while."

He waited until Nyan-Nyan had led them away before settling down on the cushion and bowing reverently to his mentor. She acknowledged him with an imperious nod of her head.

"Miaka suspects that she does not belong to this world," he stated, settling back comfortably, seeking counsel from the Controller.

"As it should be. Just continue as you have been, Houjun, and answer her questions when she has reached the answer for herself. It really is the most compassionate thing for her right now. Perhaps when she is stronger, she can be told more." Taiitsukun folded her hands in front of her and gazed serenely at him, a marked change from the iron-willed mental interrogation only minutes before.

"The Seiryuu no miko said something to me, in Miaka's world. She said Miaka would be safe _in the book_." He watched her intently, wanting to catch any reaction the ancient being might have at the suggestion. Chichiri didn't believe it possible that the world he inhabited existed only within pages of ink and parchment, but he had also been able to scan the first page of the book during the first failed transport. The wording was certainly nebulous at best.

She snorted scornfully. "And you would take the word of a woman unschooled in matters of magic, miko or not? Our world no more exists in a book than does theirs. A portal, that's all," she said, waving her hand contemptuously as though to brush away any further assumptions. "To think otherwise is preposterous."

"The wording-"

"Was an atrocious translation, all things considered." She wrinkled her nose, the distaste on her face making it apparent exactly what she thought of the flawed translation.

He couldn't help it; his mouth dropped open and he gaped at Taiitsukun, his mind grasping at a billion different possibilities. He'd mulled over Yui's statement several times since his visit to her world, thought he had mapped out the most logical conclusion, but never once had he considered anything like _this_. "There are _more_ books? And in different languages? Are they all portals?"

"Do you think there are only four gods that protect four empires that happen to border each other, and nothing else? Are other empires left with nothing? And what of the lands far away over the sea, lands that haven't yet been discovered by the majority of the human race, because they do exist, I assure you, Suzaku no Shichiseishi Chichiri. Have you forgotten so soon that nature demands a balance? Your time spent with Fang Boy is dulling your wits perhaps?"

His jaw snapped shut as his mind raced. "No, of course not... it makes sense. If there's a patron god for every land, then there would need to be a miko for each one, and certainly they couldn't all come from Miaka's time and country. There would have to be a larger population to draw from, far more candidates to assure cultural understanding and language similarities, so each empire would get a miko tailored for it, no da. Perhaps the mikos come from worlds other than Miaka's, as well- if there are two worlds, why not three, or a hundred! It's amazing!"

Taiitsukun gave an indignant glare. "Yes, you'd almost think the gods had something to do with it, wouldn't you?"

Chichiri bowed low at the rebuke, his forehead brushing the cool floor. "Of course their plans wouldn't necessarily be understood by a lowly monk. Forgive my impertinence, Taiitsukun."

"Oh, get up. No harm done, just the usual blather from a finite mind trying to grasp the infinite. Believe it or not, I _have_ heard it before." Her wrinkled cheeks twitched as she gave a tight-lipped smirk.

He left out a breath, thankful that he hadn't overstepped his bounds. "Your pardon, Taiitsukun, but back in Miaka's world, the portal spell... I shouldn't have been able to do it. I felt..."

"I know. And _you_ didn't do it. The credit goes to your miko."

"Miaka! But she was catatonic, still locked away, and the book didn't respond to her at all the first time. How?" It had been a long time since he'd been so startled by a series of revelations, and he had to admit he wasn't fond of being so unsettled. He had a feeling that a good portion of his evening would be spent in meditations, seeking calmness and clarity.

Taiitsukun peered at him, her glittering eyes hard, before answering. "I believe the _ki_ drain on yourself and Tasuki had something to do with it. You were both too depleted to open the portal, and I suspect that Miaka took over instinctively, in order to prevent you from draining yourselves to the point of injury."

"She stepped in to save us." He tried to swallow, but found the automatic motion hampered by the large lump in his throat. He felt distinctly unworthy, but incredibly blessed to be able to call Miaka Yuuki a friend.

"Indeed. Now, was there anything else?"

She looked vaguely impatient, but Chichiri chanced one more question. "What happened to Tamahome?"

She met his challenging gaze directly, and he steeled himself to be dismissed without an explanation. However, Taiitsukun was in a rare mood, and instead of ordering him from her sight, she spoke softly. "His spirit passed from Miaka's world. He will be reborn, although I can not say when or where."

"So he lost his life before they met again." The lump in his throat grew tighter still, and he regretting that Taiitsukun had answered. _Probably why she did_, he ruminated. _She was fond of saying that one should not ask questions if one is not ready to know the answers. _He would add a prayer for the spirit of his brother seishi to his evening meditations.

"Precisely. Now go, join your friends. I've been kept from my work long enough, and we'll speak again soon."

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Tasuki was getting antsy again. Nyan-Nyan had shown the miko to a room, and then directed him a bit further down the same hall. Now, he was watching the small spirit flit around the room he'd been given, pointing out all the amenities a visitor to Mt. Taikyoku was provided. All that was fine and good, but what he really wanted was a chance to go talk to Miaka, to try to make up for the rudeness he had shown her the night before and at breakfast. He wanted to get it over with, because the longer he put it off the more his gut clenched, and right about now he was thinking he was the worst sort of asshole.

He gritted his teeth and contemplated giving the flying sprite a swat, but he imagined Taiitsukun wouldn't take well to having her servants batted across a room due to his impatience to speak with Miaka. The mental image of the ancient being, her jowls quivering with fury before she smote him out of existence, was enough to stay his hand.

"-and here in this corner, we have the softest of feather beds, carefully plumped-"

He sighed inwardly, did his best to feign interest until Nyan-Nyan popped out of existence, and bolted out the door and down the hall as soon as he was able. He was about ten feet from the door to Miaka's room when Nyan-Nyan reappeared, bringing his progress to a screeching halt.

"I almost forgot- here!" Nyan-Nyan smiled brightly, holding out a white ball of fur tipped with brown.

_The hell_? Tasuki thought, while reaching for the bundle. As his fingers stretched around...whatever it was... it let out a raspy meow, and he smiled.

"Well hey there, Tama," he crooned, helping the old cat up onto his shoulder. Quite a bit fatter and now slightly arthritic, the elderly kitty had stayed with Chichiri after Mitsukake's death and benefited greatly from the monk's lakeside home. Tasuki had once teased Chichiri that the full reason he had settled on the water was to provide enough fish for the cat's voracious appetite. Taiitsukun must have sent Nyan-Nyan to fetch him when Chichiri left for Miaka's world. "How ya been? Chiri's gonna be glad ta see ya!" He scratched the kitty under the chin, causing Tama to stretched his heck out while purring contently.

He continued his journey to Miaka's room at a slower pace to accommodate for the cat now hitching a ride. When she answered his knock, her mouth formed a little "O" of surprise when she caught sight of the animal perched on his shoulder.

"Who's this?" she asked, holding her hand out tentatively for the cat to sniff.

"Another old friend. This is Tama, an' he's been livin' with Chiri since th' war."

Miaka smiled when the cat renew his purring, then giggled delightedly when he sprang forward to land on her shoulder. She reached up and buried her fingers in the cat's soft fur while he nuzzled her cheek.

Tasuki blinked. "Well, hell. I ain't seen him move like that in five years or more. I think he remembers you." _Lucky bastard of a cat_, he thought, watching Tama rub against Miaka's skin, purring up a storm. _Yeah, buddy, I don't blame ya one bit_.

She stood aside to let Tasuki enter the room, her attentions focused on the animal curled up on her shoulder. "I wish I remembered you, kitty-kun, but it's alright because we can be great friends again, starting today, ok?" Tama mewed and snuggled a little closer.

"Listen, Miaka..." Tasuki stood in the middle of the room, uncomfortable with the mask of politeness of his miko's face. "I'm sorry 'bout last night, an' today as well. I ain't got any excuses for my behavior, but I'm sorry if I hurt ya."

To his immense relief, she graced him with a sincere smile. "Thank you, Tasuki. It means a lot to me, and I want to apologize as well, if it was something I said or did that caused your reaction."

"No, no, nothin' like that," he hastened to assure her, lying through his teeth, "Ya didn't do anythin' wrong, it was just me bein' an idiot. It happens." He felt bad about his falsehood, but how could he tell her that the song hit a little too close to the truth? No, better to fib for now, and one day, if the time was right, he would come clean and tell her the truth about it and his reaction. One day. He clung to that hope.

She sighed, and lowered herself to the side of the bed, tucking her feet underneath her. Tama leaped from Miaka's shoulder and curled into her lap, his rusty purr loud and comforting. "It's really maddening, you know, not knowing if I've inadvertently said or done something wrong, because I don't remember anything. I'm afraid of saying something totally insensitive, just because I don't know any better."

She looked so defeated, sitting there staring at the ground, that he felt his heart contract painfully. He moved towards her, intending to sit beside her, then thought better of it and seated himself on the floor in front of the bed. "Mi-chan, don't worry about it, ok? Chiri and I, we've been yer friends for a long time now, and we know that you'd rather die than hurt yer friends. So even if ya do bring up somethin' that might be painful for us ta hear, it's not a big deal, got it? Cause we know ya. And Taiitsukun said she was sure yer memories were gonna come back! So this is just a..." he cast his hand around, trying to find the right words, "..a temporary inconvenience."

"I appreciate that, Tasuki," came the quiet reply, and he smiled, relieved to have another emotional crisis over. He was getting pretty good at this, he considered, although he certainly wouldn't want to have to deal with the emotions of any random female.

She gazed at him, her expression open and friendly, and he wondered what he did in his past life to deserve the friendship of such a woman in this one. She was extraordinary, while he... he was just a bandit. But somewhere along the lines, Suzaku had decreed that he was good enough to protect her, and while he wasn't a religious man, he never forgot to whisper a prayer of thanks to the god for the privilege of knowing Miaka. That he was also able to love her, even if it was unrequited, was just the pretty bow on top of the package.

"So whadda ya say to us gettin' Nyan-Nyan ta bring us somethin' ta eat? I'm a bit sick of camp grub myself." He knew it was the right thing to suggest when her eyes brightened and she leaped up, dislodging Tama and sending the cat sprawling across the bed.

"Do you think they have sweet bean cakes?"

A rather grumpy meow from Tama had her excitement turning into instant contrition. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tama. You had just gotten nice and comfortable too! I guess I'm just a little hungry." An angry growl from her stomach had her turning pink with embarrassment, and Tasuki laughed, relieved to have the tension of the morning gone.

"C'mon, Mi-chan. We'll see about some food, and maybe a nice fish for Tama, ta make up for being tossed aside in favor of bean cakes." He reached out and took her hand to pull her forward towards the door, and caught site of Tama out of the corner of his eye, as the cat settled back down, demurely licking his paws.

Had the cat just _winked_ at him?


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: To answer the question in Ayriel's review (sorry for missing it last time!), Miaka is 23, Tasuki is 29, and Chichiri is 36. In the UOTFG, 12 years have passed, but only 8 have passed in Miaka's world. The __Hedgehog Song is filk based on the song of the same name mentioned in **Terry Pratchett**'s Discworld novels. I apologize for the lateness of this chapter; the flu had taken up residence in my household. Hopefully the worst has passed. This chapter was hard to write, for several reasons, but I hope it worked well._

It wasn't hard to find Tasuki and Miaka in the maze of Mt. Taikyoku. He simply followed the enticing scent of food, and as he moved closer, the incessant sounds of slurping, crunching, and gulping that accompanied any meal with Miaka or Tasuki and increased exponentially when they were sharing a table together. Chichiri quickened his pace, hoping to get there in time to fill a plate with some scraps before a fight broke out over the last eggroll.

It was good to see Miaka eating again. Tasuki had reported to him that she had barely touched her food the first day, and she was so dangerously underweight that he wondered how long it had been since she had been allowed a full meal. Yui also had mentioned the unusual lack of appetite her friend had, placing the blame on the medications Miaka was taking. What sort of healing medicines did they use in Miaka's world, where they did more harm than good? Regardless, Miaka was here now, scarfing down a shrimp dish with alacrity. She barely paused to twitch her chopsticks in his direction in a makeshift greeting before renewing her efforts, and he returned the sentiment with a nod.

"I hope the two of you left something for me, no da," he intoned, sweeping his gaze over the table, stacked high with empty platters. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the smile that was threatening to betray his stern expression as amber eyes and green ones met over the pile of discarded serving ware in panic. Neither of them had seen the working of Taiitsukun's kitchen, where Nyan-Nyan could obtain any particular ingredient with only a moment's notice, and the food flowed fast and plenty. There would be no chance of any of them leaving the table hungry, but of course they had no way of knowing that. He pushed aside several dirty plates, sat down at the table, and pretended not to notice the guilty expressions of his companions as he gingerly picked up the limp radish that was the only edible item on any of the serving dishes. He held it between thumb and forefinger, turning it first to one side, then the other, before deciding he had tormented his friends enough.

"Um, 'bout that, Chiri..." Tasuki spoke up, chagrined, but Chichiri held up a slim hand to silence him.

"I'm not fond of radishes, really, so I suppose I'll have to try some of that shrimp dish that Miaka's eating." A warm, furry body winding around his ankles and a plaintive mew from under the table made him grin. "And another fish for Tama, please."

He chuckled when Tasuki and Miaka jumped back at the sudden appearance of Nyan-Nyan, laden with more dishes. The next few minutes were spent eating the first decent meal he'd had since overtaxing himself, and he could feel the nourishment returning energy to his leaden limbs.

"Dirty trick, Chiri," Tasuki grumbled, but the way he cut his eyes over to Chichiri left the monk with no doubt that Tasuki had picked up on the grief Chichiri had been fighting to hide. When had his redheaded friend become so perceptive? He wondered briefly, then discarded the thought as uncharitable. Tasuki had always seen the little nuances that people tried to hide; it was what made him such a successful bandit. Just because he chose to ignore most societal niceties didn't mean the bandit was unaware of them. He sighed, wishing that he had brought along his mask. He wore it less often these days, but still yearned for the anonymity it offered whenever his emotions were high. All the more reason to put it aside, he chided himself.

Tasuki was still studying him out of the corner those piercing amber eyes. He gave Tasuki a small, almost imperceptible nod, to acknowledge his fellow seishi's concern before returning his attentions to the meal before him. He knew the conversation to come would be difficult for both of them and he wanted all his strength to deal with it.

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Tasuki knocked on the door to Chichiri's room, the dread in his belly curling around like a serpent. He'd known unequivocally from the moment he'd seen the monk's ashen pallor and slightly dilated pupil that something was up, and it wasn't anything good. When he had caught sight of that slender hand trembling, well, that's when the fear had started to take hold. Chiri had far too much control to be rocked by something small. Whatever it was, it was worthy of the anguish clawing at his gut, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was that his friend was going to tell him.

It hadn't taken long for the events of the past days to catch up with Miaka, and she had gratefully accepted his suggestion of a mid-day nap, heading off with Tama wound around her shoulders. He felt slightly guilty at putting her off like that, but she _was_ tired, and Tasuki was feeling like he'd start ripping out his own hair if he had to live with that uncertainty much longer. He just couldn't sit there and make small talk with anyone, let alone Miaka, if what he thought might be the case had actually come to pass.

The door opened slowly, and in the split second before Chiri came into view, Tasuki felt the almost unbearable urge to flee, to give a burst of speed and run far away, where nothing could hurt him. He knew, however, from experience that there _was_ no place, and so he held his ground, waiting, until Chichiri stepped away from the door in silent invitation.

"He's dead, isn't he," he blurted the moment the door latched behind him. It was a statement rather than a question, because if Tasuki reached deep into himself, he knew that Tamahome wasn't with them any longer. He had felt that bond weaken, almost to the point of severance, when the martial artist had left their world to be with Miaka, and so he had never noticed that it disappeared entirely, but he knew it now. There was an emptiness, and he could have cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. It felt like a betrayal, and he gritted his teeth at the unfairness of a world that did not stop to mourn the passing of his friend and brother seishi.

"He is," Chichiri confirmed, his head bowed, his face turned away.

He had known it, he had _felt_ it, but hearing it put to words brought him to his knees, and that emptiness, that nothingness deep within him expanded, causing everything surrounding it to crack and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. The room went blurry and tilted, and Tasuki felt like he had just been punched, gasping for air that was suddenly too thick to breathe. His eyes burned and his skin felt too tight over that enlarging emptiness, and he wanted to scream, Suzaku why couldn't he scream...

... and then he was, and it sounded far away and anguished and broken, just like the Shichiseishi, just like all of them- Nuriko, and Chiriko, Hotohori and Mitsukake, Tamahome, and even him and Chiri, because who was more broken than those left behind to pick up all the pieces. Only it was no use, because once they were broken they could never be put back together, not really, and it was always easier to break again a second, third, or even fourth time.

The tears came then, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach, anything to make that horrible void disappear, and when Chichiri knelt down beside him, he reached out sobbing, only to find that they were already clinging to one another.

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_She stared up at the incredibly tall man with the kind eyes who was leaning over her. His hands were soft on her skin as he probed carefully, causing her breath to catch as he came into contact with a particularly sensitive area. His gaze flicked to hers in silent apology, before resuming the careful examination of her arm. His hair was tied back with two colorful scarves, and she found herself thinking that on any other man, it would have looked silly, but on him, it worked. Then again, he was a man of contradictions. The tallest of her seishi, he was also the one with the gentle spirit, the generous nature. Their gaze met once more as he sat back, his physical completed, and she felt a rush of affection for her selfless friend._

"_Well, Mitsukake?" she asked, and he nodded, confident in his diagnosis._

"_I can heal your arm. Go ahead and sit back," he instructed, and she made herself comfortable, propping her back against the wall, as Tama curled up on the bed next to her. The doctor lifted his left hand and the character on his palm glowed, bathing her flesh with a greenish cast. She bit her lip, impatient to be healed so she could find a way to rescue-_

Miaka bolted upright, gasping, her heart racing as she fought the tangled bedcovers. The cat who had been dozing peacefully by her side glared balefully at her, and she buried her shaking fingers into his fur.

"I think I had my first memory, Tama," she choked out, trying to calm her trembling body, "and you were there. At least I think it was a memory. Do you know a man named Mitsukake?"

The cat jumped to his feet and wove around her hands, meowing ecstatically.

"So it _was_ real!" Delighted, Miaka fought the covers with renewed vigor, freeing herself from the sheets. She needed to find Tasuki and Chichiri, and the strange little woman called Taiitsukun, to let them know. She slipped her bare feet into the slippers Nyan-Nyan had left by her bed and took off through the echoing halls.

There was no answer to her knock at Tasuki's room, or Chichiri's, so she wandered the halls until she came to a small courtyard. She stepped out onto the grass and halted, momentarily blinded by the dazzling sunshine. After blinking a few times, she was gradually able to make out the figure of someone sitting under one of the trees, back against the trunk, long leather-clad legs stretched out.

She'd found Tasuki after all.

She started towards him, but stopped again after only a few steps, feeling as thought she was intruding. He was staring straight ahead, unaware of her presence, leaving only his profile visible with sunlight catching the tears that flowed unchecked down his face. She brought her hand, trembling again, to her mouth to smother the gasp. The sight of Tasuki- strong, brash, funny, thoughtful Tasuki- reduced to tears moved her in a way she couldn't define. She wanted to go to him and take all the hurt away; she wanted to put her arms around him while he shed his sorrows. She wanted to run her fingers through his shining hair and soothe the pain, she wanted to kiss him until he smiled again.

And recognizing that, she wanted to get the hell away. She swallowed the need that rose within her and forced herself to take a step back, away from the only thing in the world she knew she wanted, away from the only thing of which she was sure. If she was lucky, she could make her retreat and collect her thoughts, and no one would be the wiser.

In a perfect mockery of her desire, her foot landed squarely on a twig. It gave way with a traitorous snap. She cursed under her breath as Tasuki's head turned in her direction.

Well, nothing for it now. She took a deep breath and moved toward him, a tenuous smile on her lips. She hoped he wouldn't cuss at her for interrupting his solitude.

He didn't. He made no pretense of his sadness, just mopped the tears from his face with the cuff of his sleeve and patted the ground next to him in invitation.

"I'm sorry for intruding," Miaka said hesitantly, folding herself as small as she could, as if she could disappear.

Tasuki gave a half smile and bumped his shoulder against hers in a friendly manner. "Don't apologize. I'm glad ta have the company."

"I hope you don't mine me asking, but..." she trailed off, unsure how to word her question without sounding rude.

"Why'm I cryin'?" he queried bluntly, and she nodded. He seemed to hesitate, and then answered. "I jus' found out that someone I cared a lot about- closer than a brother- is dead. I'd guessed as much, but bein' told for sure... well, it hit me harder than I woulda thought." He stared out into the sunlight, gathering his thoughts.

She didn't know what to say, so she gripped his hand in her own. "Would it help to tell me about him?"

He let out a strangled laugh, but slowly, he began to talk. "He was...ah... one of my friends from the war. The first time I met him, he almost killed me. It was just a misunderstanding, though."

Miaka repeated his words, trying to comprehend what she had just heard. "A... misunderstanding... nearly killed..."

Tasuki hastened to explain. "Well, he was under a spell, like, and thought he was one of the enemy. Once we got that all sorted out, it got better."

"And how does one sort something like that out?" she asked, dazed by his story and the way the sunlight filtering through the branches was creating embers in his coppery hair.

He frowned, recollecting the series of events. "Hmmm. I think the Emperor ran him through with a sword. That fixed it."

Miaka started to say one thing, sputtered, began to say something else, then just gave up.

Tasuki didn't appear to notice, lost to memories. "Anyway, we went through a lot, fighting together. We bickered a lot, and he used to threaten to toss me off of boats whenever we were around one, but he was a good friend, and a hell of a fighter. Whooped my ass more than once, actually. He deserved more than life dealt him, that's for sure. Even the things that gave him the most happiness were taken from him in the end."

A muscle high in his cheek was jumping, and Miaka couldn't bear to see the grief that was marring his beautiful features. She threw her arms around him and leaned against his chest, pulling him towards him, anchoring him to the present. She felt him tense under her cheek and she held him tighter, silently pleading with him not to pull away, to let her console him, if only this once.

Mercifully, she felt his strong arms wrapping around her, answering her plea, his warmth enveloping her as he cradled her against his muscular chest. One calloused hand rose to stroke her hair, and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of Tasuki surrounding her. She had meant to offer comfort, but the need she had tampered down flared to life under his touch. She lifted her head and found her lips just inches away from his jaw, where his pulse beat frantically under smooth skin. She wanted to tease the skin there, to whisper across his flesh, and make him just as crazy as he was making her. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips and she fought back a blush.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he groaned her name and lowered his head to nuzzle the skin behind her ear, his mouth playing over the sensitive hollow. She shivered in response and tilted her head, granting access to his questing lips as they skimmed over her jawline before brushing once, twice, tentatively over her own. She sighed in answer, and his mouth captured her own, all hesitation gone. Every fiber in Miaka's body was on high alert as Tasuki's mouth worked magic on hers, and she responded eagerly, nibbling on his top lip before allowing his tongue to sweep over her own. Her hands tightened their hold on Tasuki's back as her fingertips dug into his muscles, and for one mortifying moment, she could have sworn that she purred, but all embarrassment was chased away by Tasuki's kiss. Everything inside of her wanted to sing in happiness, and she breathed his name as she scooted closer, determined to remove any space between them.

And as suddenly as it had started, the spell was broken. Tasuki pushed away from her and stood abruptly, his back to her as she sat, her head still swimming from his kisses. Miaka blinked and pressed her fingers to her swollen lips, uncomprehending. "Tasuki?"

"I can't, Miaka. You should go now," he said, not looking in her direction, and his voice was as cold as it had been passionate only moments before when he has said her name.

"I don't understand," she replied, confused and hurt by his withdrawal. Had she done something wrong? He had seemed to be enjoying their kiss as much as she had. What had happened?

"There's nothing to understand. I was upset and wasn't thinking straight." He shifted slightly, and all she could see was his dark outline against the brilliant light of the sun. It hurt her eyes to look at him.

"I see," she said quietly, as she tried to gather her tattered dignity. "In that case, I think you're right. I'll just... be going now." She pushed to her feet, humiliated and barely holding back tears of her own. She wanted to run as fast as she could away from him, but forced herself to walk normally until she was out of his sight. Only then did she allow herself to break into a sprint, the teardrops falling as she ran.

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When he was sure she had gone, Tasuki turned and punched the trunk of the tree with all his pent-up frustration. Several of his knuckles crunched under the assault, and he swore, flexing the fingers that still worked, wincing as the skin split and blood dripped down the digits.

Having Miaka in his arms had been perfection. It was bliss and heaven and nirvana and he'd wanted nothing more than to keep kissing her until neither of them could remember their own names. And therein lay the problem, because Miaka could barely remember that much, kisses or not, so it wouldn't take long to get her to that point. She couldn't remember anything, and he was sitting her mourning her dead would-have-been lover _whom she still loved_, only she didn't know it, and still he had wanted to do nothing more than keep holding her and kissing her and breathing in her intoxicating scent. Only the knowledge that she seemed to want it as much as he did had brought him to his senses and allowed him to pull away.

He had handled that badly, he knew, and he couldn't blame her for being upset, but he'd needed to make sure she wasn't within reach until he got himself under control again. After all, what would Miaka think of him once she recovered her memories, if he'd allowed things to progress, knowing how she felt about Tamahome. She'd rightly blame him for taking advantage of the situation, and that was one thing Tasuki wouldn't allow to happen. So he'd been cruel and sent her away and she'd probably hate him until her memory came back.

And then, Tasuki groaned, she'd probably avoid him. Either way, it looked like their friendship was shot. And all because he couldn't resist kissing her, couldn't be in her arms without wanting her. Even now, knowing better, with his cock and his battered hand throbbing, he wanted to chase her down and kiss her senseless, among other things.

He punched the tree again, swallowed a curse, then headed back into the palace through another entrance, seeking Nyan-Nyan for some first aid and sake.

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He'd found both. Several hours later, he lay sprawled sideways across his bed, shirtless, his hair loose from the customary leather thong he used to bind it. Everything had that slightly fuzzy sheen that came after many cups of sake and just before passing out. Tasuki liked the fuzzy. It made the world a nicer place, especially when he couldn't get the memory of Miaka's lips and tongue and those small sighs out of his head. He was beginning to wonder, somewhat blurrily, if the imprint of her lips was seared on to his skin. He wouldn't doubt it.

He rolled over, poured more sake. He hummed an off-key rendition of some silly song Kouji had taught him ages ago, sipped, hiccupped, and hummed a little more. Once he reached a part of the song he knew, he sang aloud, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed.

When the knock came, he didn't even bother to get up or stop singing.

"S'open Chiri! You can with a snail if ya slow to a crawl, but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all," he drew in a breath and started on the chorus.

"The hedgehog can never be buggered at all, buggered at all, buggered at all," he warbled, and sipped more sake.

"You're a drunken mess," Chichiri sighed, his lips twitching as he surveyed the empty sake jugs and Tasuki's dishabille.

"Yup! The hedgehog can never be buggered at all, buggered at all, buggered at all!" Tasuki agreed cheerfully.

"What in Suzaku's name are you singing, no da?"

"The Hedgehog Song," Tasuki said, rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the questions. "Thought monks were 'sposed ta be smart. Ya can do it with a hen cause an egg'll fit in, or with a worm if yer pointy an' thin."

Chichiri held up a hand and silenced Tasuki's enthusiastic tune. "How much more of that are you going to sing, no da?"

Tasuki shrugged, sloshing sake out of the cup. "Dunno. I can never remember the seventeenth verse. Somethin' 'bout goats. Have some sake," he invited gesturing to the jug by the bed.

Chichiri grimaced. "No thanks. Have you seen Miaka this afternoon?"

Tasuki's mind screamed warning as he tried and failed to act nonchalant. "No. Maybe. Yes. What did she say?"

The monk looked at him strangely, then picked his way through the empty sake jugs to sit on the bed. "_She_ didn't say anything, no da. So what happened?"

Tasuki groaned and supported his head on one arm. "I kissed her. And she kissed back. And it was fantastic until I jumped like a cat tossed in water and yelled at her to get the fuck away."

"Hmm," was all Chichiri said in reply.

"That's it? Where's the goddamn wisdom?"

"Well, you stopped, right? So apologize for being a jerk- no, _not_ tonight, tomorrow is fine- and try to keep yourself in check until she remembers Tamahome, too. Then she'll appreciate your restraint"

"Yeah, easier said than... wait. Whadda ya mean, _too_?"

Chichiri smiled and extended a hand to pull Tasuki into a sitting position. "That's what I was coming to talk to you about, no da. Miaka recovered her first memory earlier today, during her nap. She remembered being healed by Mitsukake."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. The quote Taiitsukun mentioned is by Harlan Ellison.

It was a lovely day, full of sunshine, warm breezes, singing birds, and fluffy white clouds. Miaka was glad- with everything else that was wrong, it was a small pleasure to be surrounded by the simple beauty of a summer morning. She stretched out near a shady tree- not _that_ tree- and watched the parade of clouds rolling by. It was amusing to pick out the cloud pictures, and besides, it kept her mind off of one very steamy kiss, and the redhead who had rejected her moments later.

She squeezed her eyes shut to bring her thoughts back into focus. She was not going to think of him anymore. She'd been awake more than half the night, tossing and turning while going over every moment of their interactions – those that she could remember anyway- with a fine tooth comb. As humiliating as it was to relive the moment when Tasuki pulled away, she'd forced herself to do it, and had come to the conclusion that she had definitely been too forward. She had placed him in a position he hadn't wanted to be in, and taken advantage of his grief. She wouldn't have believed herself capable of it, but her actions spoke otherwise. Now she'd probably ruined any chances of staying friends with the redhead, because, if she were completely honest with herself, now that she'd had those wonderful, full lips on her own, she wanted them again, and more than ever.

She sighed, picked an elephant out of the cottony cloud drifting past, and wondered when she'd become so craven.

Or maybe she always _was_. Maybe she wasn't even a virgin. Maybe she'd had dozens of lovers. She was certainly old enough to take on a lover if she so wished... wait. How old _was_ she, anyway?

And besides, it didn't feel right, the thought of her being so sexually open. Somehow, she knew instinctively that she'd only consider sharing that part of herself with someone whom she loved deeply. The question was, had there been someone, at one point? Try as she might, she just did not know.

Well, virgin or not, she knew that she was drawn to the bold man she'd kissed yesterday. When she was with him, it didn't matter whether they were laughing or just sitting quietly. She never felt a need to speak just to fill the silence with empty words. Being with Tasuki made her feel safe, whole, and protected. She'd thought that he enjoyed spending time with her as well, but his actions yesterday made it clear that he only considered her a friend, and even that might be finished.

Miaka sniffed and wiped hastily at her damp eyes. She wasn't going to cry again. There! That cloud looked just like a pirate ship. It even had a mast and a small cloud flag. It wasn't the Jolly Roger, but she could imagine, right? Then again, it was her imagination that got her in trouble, she reminded herself firmly, when her thoughts ran to Tasuki, wearing a privateer's blouse and an eyepatch.

Obviously, cloud watching was getting her nowhere. Still, it was a beautiful day, the sun was warm against her skin, and the gardens were peaceful. She'd stay out here a bit longer, maybe think more about the memories she had recently recovered, of Mitsukake and his healing power.

Somewhere in the middle of her recollections, her eyes drifted closed, only to pop open when she felt a looming shadow blocking out the day's brightness. Tasuki was standing over her, staring down with bleary, red rimmed eyes and a grim expression. His hair was loose, in disarray around his shoulders, a limp riot of red and gold against pale skin with dark smudges under his eyes.

He looked like death warmed over, and Miaka had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from saying so. He didn't seem inclined to start a conversation, so she settled for a diplomatic hello instead.

He grunted in reply.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, eying him warily. Had he come to tell her off for yesterday? Why was he just standing there, staring at her? She glanced away to make a quick perusal of her buttons and zippers- everything was as it should be- so what was the deal?

"What's wrong with you?" she asked solicitously, although she was starting to get annoyed by his lack of communication.

"Hangover," he uttered, barely above a whisper.

_Oh_. Heh. That explained it.

"I feel like I swallowed a few thousand silk cocoons, an' my head..." he groaned. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, then used it to slide down to the ground next to her. She sniffed delicately, then shifted farther away. He smelled of sour sake and spicy male. It should have been repulsive. So why did it tug at her?

"Have you talked to Nyan-Nyan yet? I'll bet you could be rid of the headache, at least," she suggested, looking down at her lands. She laced them together, unsure of what else to say.

"Nah, I wanted ta talk ta ya first."

"Oh."

He squinted in her general direction, lifting a hand to shade his eyes. "About yesterday... Miaka... I didn't..."

She hastily interjected, "No, it's ok. It was my fault, I shouldn't have... I know you didn't... I'm sorry."

"Mi-chan, it's not yer fault. It's just, there are good reasons why what happened shouldn't have, but I handled it badly yesterday, I know. I shouldn't have been such an ass about it, but I wasn't in the best frame of mind an' all. So, I'm sorry for it."

"What are they?"

"Huh?"

"The good reasons. I'd like to know what they are."

He sighed, plucked up a blade of grass and started shredding it. "I can't tell ya."

She looked at him, waiting.

"What?" He met her gaze, flinched and looked down at the small pile of ripped grass forming by his thigh.

She sat, watching him, until he began to fidget under her gaze.

"Look, Miaka, do ya trust me?"

"With my life," she answered swiftly, without hesitation.

He seemed startled by her admission. She wondered why; surely he had to know how safe he made her feel. Maybe she had never told him? Well, that she could rectify. Not now, though, she'd wait until the time felt right. Maybe she could cook him a nice meal or something.

"Then please, believe me when I say that _that_ just can't happen." His eyes met hers again, and she was moved by the plea she saw in the amber depths. _Don't push it_, they seemed to say. _It's better this way_.

Very well. She could concede. "For now? Or ever?" she asked before she could stop the words from passing her lips. She could feel her cheeks reddening and she returned her gaze her to folded hands.

A long silence, then Tasuki answered. "I don't know."

She didn't know if she should be reassured or saddened by the answer. All the knew was that her heart was beating wildly in her chest and Tasuki was making no move to leave, looking as miserable as she felt.

"Tasuki?" she asked, and her voice sounded smaller somehow. She hoped he didn't notice.

"Hmm?"

"You know that I... liked it, right? Kissing you, I mean." She knew she was being too forward again, but it seemed important for her to make sure he knew that. She didn't want there to be any confusion. He was silent, so she risked a peek in his direction. His cheeks were stained with a light blush. "Oh no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

He halted her objections by getting to his feet. "S'ok. Stop apologizin'. But I think I'd better go back in now."

She could feel tears prickling behind her eyes again, and she wasn't sure whether this little chat had made things between them better or worse. She nodded, miserable, unable to look in his direction.

He swore softly and crouched down in front of her. "Don't look like that. Please. Suzaku, don't cry."

She sniffed and blinked rapidly. "I'm not."

"Sure. And I'm Heika," he muttered, skepticism evident on his face. "Don't feel bad for tellin' me th' truth. I like that ya can talk ta me an' be honest about how yer feeling. That's a good thing, ok?"

"Then why were you running off?" Miaka asked, distraught. She hated this feeling and wished more than anything that she were back in her room with the covers over her head.

Tasuki looked like he'd rather be anywhere else as well. The expression that flashed across his face reminded her of a wild animal trapped. _He's afraid_, she realized, _but of what_?

"Tasuki?" she asked once more reaching out to brush her fingers against his cheek. She expected him to pull back, but instead he raised his hand to capture her fingers and held them against his face.

"Alright, I'll tell ya. I liked kissin' ya too- too much. An' I'm tryin' really hard ta do th' right thing here, so I need ta get away before I kiss ya again and really screw things up. Understand?"

She nodded dumbly, struck speechless by his admission.

"An' like I said, it can't happen again, so don't take it personally, ok? An' I've already said far too much, so I need ta get outta here."

He dropped her hand and was across the small garden and through the doorway before she recovered the power of thought, let alone speech.

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He was soaking in a bath, trying to ease the pounding in his brain, when Taiitsukun floated into view. His first reaction was to make a leap for his robe, draped over the back of a chair just out of reach, but the sudden sharp pain of his hungover head brought him up short when he was only halfway out of the bath. The ancient being gave a guffaw that made her jowls quiver, so Tasuki scrunched back down into the water, shielding as much of his body as possible with the small square washcloth.

"D'ya come in here just to get a leer in?" he grumbled, but his head ached too badly for the jibe to carry its usual vitriol.

"And what exactly makes you think I'd want to leer at you, Fang Boy? If I wanted to look at hungover bandits, I'd visit Mt. Reikaku." The corners of Taiitsukun's lips twitched before her face was again schooled into the slightly probing gaze she always wore around the bandit.

He winced and sank a bit lower into the fragrant bath. "'Sa bit much, comin' in like that when a man's head should be doin' him a favor and rollin' off his shoulders ta spare him the pain."

"Indeed," Taiitsukun snickered. "Sake has a tendency to cause that, so I'm told."

He just groaned in reply.

Taiitsukun snapped her fingers, and Nyan-Nyan appeared, beaming at them. She flitted over to Tasuki and placed one small finger on his forehead, the disappeared with a pop. The headache began to recede immediately, and the bandit breathed in relief.

Now that that's taken care of," Taiitsukun eyed Tasuki sternly, "the discussion can continue."

"Which one? The one where we talk about why you're poppin' in while I'm bathin'?"

"Is it within your power to be quiet and LISTEN?" The crone's voice, amplified by authority, boomed through the room, and Tasuki gulped.

"Yeah, sure. I can do that," he said earnestly. "But do ya mind... er... turnin' round so I can get outta this water? I'm getting' all pruney."

Taiitsukun glared, but floated over to face the wall. Unimpeded by the throbbing headache, he was able to leave the bath and robe himself in record time. "Alright, ya can turn back now." He flopped down in the chair, folded his arms over his cheat, and waited for Taiitsukun to tell him what was so damned important.

"Do you know what anthropotheism is?"

He blinked. "Wha?"

She sighed. "Anthropomorphic personification?"

"Huh?"

"Right. Listen up, Fang Boy. When you were 5, your father whittled you a wooden fish. You had no other toys, only that scrap of wood, but you were scared that it was hurting because it wasn't in water and wouldn't be able to breathe. Do you remember?"

"I..." Tasuki blushed, scowled, and stared at the floor.

"You threw it in the river to save its life," Taiitsukun said. "You ascribed to the toy human emotion and needs. _That_ is anthropomorphic personification."

"Alright, so what's that got ta do with anythin'?

"It has everything do with with _everything_, as you'd see if you weren't so dense." Taiitsukun barked, pointing an accusing finger at his chest, mere inches from poking him. "Anthropotheism is giving human emotion and form to a god."

"Like what Miaka did when she summoned Suzaku?"

"Now you're catching on," the ancient being said wryly. "The summoning only gave him form. The emotion had been given to him much earlier. It was long ago decided that Suzaku was the god of love. It was that belief that made it so."

"Wait a minute; yer losin' me. You're saying Suzaku is only the god of love because a bunch of people _believed_ he was?"

"That is exactly what I am saying. You catch on quicker than I would have thought."

"So if I believed that Suzaku was the chicken god of... I don't know, war, that he'd _be_ that?"

"It would take time, of course, and a lot more than just _your_ belief," this time the finger did poke him, "but yes. He would become that."

"Holy _shit_."

Taiitsukun glared and cleared her throat loudly.

Tasuki cringed. "Sorry, but that's just... well, damn. I never knew."

"Why must men always state the obvious? " Taiitsukun tutted, her ribbons swirling as she hovered.

"It makes us feel smart," the bandit said, tipping his chair back on two legs.

"To return us to the subject at hand, I believe it is time to inform you why it is that Miaka was sent for." Taiitsukun steepled her liver-spotted fingers and gazed at him.

"It was ta get her outta that prison!" He flexed her arms behind his head, stretching. Nyan-Nyan's healing touch had also imbued him with energy; he wanted Grandma to get to the point so he could go find Chiri and Miaka, maybe get some breakfast.

"That was only part of the reason. Miaka was brought back because Suzaku hopes she will choose to make this her home, and produce a child who will, of course, also live here."

The chair legs thumped against the floor as he lost his balance and tipped forward. "_What_?"

She raised a wrinkled hand. "Listen well, Suzaku no Shichiseishi Tasuki. I have seen the possible outcomes of the future. I know what will happen if Miaka takes a mate of this world and chooses to stay. I also know what happens if she returns to her world."

His mouth was suddenly dry in a way that had nothing to do with the hangover. "What happens?"

She studied him, her gaze boring into his own, before she answered. "Her child, raised with love in this world, will be the savior of Suzaku, the greatest of his priests, and beloved of the Konan Empire."

"And if she leaves?" It hurt just to say the words, a stabbing pain in his chest.

"If Miaka returns to her world, she will have no child. The people of Konan will become embittered by the devastation of the war and hardships to come. They will lose belief in Suzaku."

Tasuki tiled his head, considering what she told him. "So what happens when people lose belief in their anthro... whatever?"

Taiitsukun's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. "They have a saying in Miaka's world. '_When belief in a god dies, the god dies_.'"

Tasuki shot to his feet as a wave of adrenaline swept through him. The yoku flared to life, emitting brilliant red light, before fading to a respectable glow. "Suzaku will _die_ if Miaka doesn't stay here an' have a kid?"

Taiitsukun said nothing, only bowed her head.

"Well, jus' ask her then! I know she'd stay if it meant that! Besides, it ain't like she's got a lot ta go back ta. They'd jus' lock her up again."

Taiitsukun shook her head, looking genuinely regretful. "It doesn't work like that, Tasuki. Miaka can not make the choice out of duty. It must be _love_. Without it, the child will not be raised in the environment needed to foster the great devotion for Suzaku that will lead to the calling. Duty and sacrifice, no matter how well-intentioned, can easily lead to resentment, even if she does not believe it will. That is a chance we can not take."

"So what made Suzaku may also be his undoin'" Tasuki snarled, his fist clenched

Taiitsukun looked startled, but quickly recovered. "Yes. Something like that."

"She can't know, then, can she? Cause even if she did find love here, there'd be that bit of duty underneath it all."

Taiitsukun inclined her head. "Correct. She can not know until her choice is already made, and only then if she chooses to remain. I will not burden her with the knowledge of what is to come if she returns to her world."

"So why're ya tellin' me?" Tasuki inquired, curious. It wasn't like he'd ever been Taiitsukun's confidant before. It was getting really weird. He'd always figured she talked to Chichiri when it came to seishi stuff.

"Why indeed? I was beginning to think you showed a gift of perception. Perhaps not." One last hideous grin, and she was gone, leaving Tasuki with more questions than answers.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Huge amounts of thanks to **KittyLynne** for her amazing beta of this chapter._

Suzaku, dead! A _god_ killed, simply by a lack of belief. It boggled Tasuki's mind, and he felt yet another headache creeping up behind his eyes.

Despite being one of Suzaku's chosen, he had never been big on the practice of religion; as a rule, he left the prostrating, incense-lighting, and meditating to Chichiri. His service as a seishi was proof enough that he believed in the Big Guy, and the lack of smiting he had gotten for that belief was proof enough that the Big Guy was ok with the arrangement. So he served, Chichiri chanted, Suzaku didn't smite, and life went on as usual.

That is, until now. From this day forward, _nothing_ would be as usual.

He wondered, briefly, what would have happened had the people of Kutou decided that Seiryuu was the god of love. It seemed like such a small choice in the grand scheme of things, but yet making it would have changed_everything_. Would he have found himself on the wrong side of the war? Would he be a seishi at all if Suzaku wasn't the Suzaku he knew? Would Yui have been Suzaku's miko? Would he and Miaka only have met upon a battlefield?

It was hard to think that after only a generation after being saved by the sacrifice of the miko and her seishi, the country would turn its back on their god. Maybe if it were hundreds of years down the line, when the story of Miaka and her seven warriors was nothing more than ancient history. But in such a short span, when there would still be people alive who had lived through the war with Kutou, and people who had come into contact with them on their divine mission to save the world?

It was inconceivable, and he would have laughed in the face of anyone who said otherwise... except for Taiitsukun. If Taiitsukun said something would happen, then there was no doubt that it would, even though he wished with all his heart that she had said almost anything but that.

He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, attempting to ward off the throbbing that had intensified with his angst. Regardless of what he wished, Taiitsukun _had _told him, and now he was faced with a monumental decision, one that he couldn't even pawn off onto Chichiri, damn it all! Miaka had once explained a saying from her world, 'caught between a rock and a hard place'. He'd never felt the truth of it then, but now he understood it perfectly. He was caught between his god and his miko- to whom did he owe his allegiance?

He hadn't felt it was right to pursue Miaka until such a time as she had regained her memories and was able to properly grieve over her loss. Only when- or if- she was able to move forward would he show his interest in her. That noble intention had been undone by a moment of weakness underneath a shady tree, but he had still stuck to his principles. Even if she knew of his feelings for her, it was best not to act on them until they were both in a position for him to freely do so; it was the right thing, the honorable thing to wait until she remembered Tamahome.

But now that decision was not as clear. If Miaka didn't fall in love with him or someone from his world, it would mean the death of his god. And who was to say that Miaka would ever fall for him? What if she didn't? Could he still stand by her side while she fell in love with someone else if it meant preventing Suzaku's demise?

He couldn't force the issue to prevent that happening. Telling Miaka about Tamahome so she could make her own choice could very well destroy the fragile hold she had regained on her sanity. But could he really try his best to make her fall for him while knowing that she had no memory of her love for Tamahome or of his for her? Could he deny her that remembrance just to save the god of love they both served from oblivion?

What irony. He might have laughed had it not been so damn tragic.

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It wasn't difficult to find her. Her _ki_ was elevated, and pulsating outwards; every few feet another burst came from the direction of one of Taiitsukun's many courtyards.

Chichiri found he had to shield himself as he drew near; the last thing he needed after the time he'd spent recovering was another roaring headache garnered from an overdose of life-force.

She was sitting on the grass, staring at one of the arches that lead into the palace, so lost in her own thoughts that he'd been sitting beside her for a full minute before she realized he was there.

"Good morning, Miaka no da," he said mildly, passing her the cup of tea he'd prepared from the five-flavor fruit.

She drank deeply before greeting him, her eyes straying to the doorway as she did so.

Ah. So that was the way the wind blew. Chichiri waited patiently while his miko gathered her thoughts, content to enjoy the familiar courtyard in her presence until Miaka abruptly broke the silence.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you this yesterday. Tasuki mentioned that he had lost a friend from the war; did you know him as well?"

The monk inclined his head, as his mask assumed a banal expression. "I did. He was dear to us both, although Tasuki was closer to him than I was."

Miaka's voice held quiet sympathy. "I'm sorry. Losing someone is never easy."

The monk took careful note of her expression before answering. Her eyes were shadowed, as if she were feeling a remembered pain. "It never is, no da." He agreed carefully. "And it's never something one gets used to."

Companionable silence fell between them once more. The morning was warm, and soon Miaka had stretched out on the grass, one arm under her head and the other protecting her eyes from the brightness of the sun. As she slipped into a doze, Chichiri relaxed and enjoyed the moment of peace.

He had just begun to consider the possibility of going fishing later in the day when Miaka jerked awake and shot up to a sitting position. Adrenaline coursed through the monk. Her breathing was coming in hitches, and as she began to cry , he knelt and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her panic-stricken eyes to focus on his face. "What is it, Miaka? What's happened?"

She leaned forward, allowing his hands to support her as she curled into herself. "I saw... I was kneeling by him... he died... there wasn't anything I could... I couldn't even..." She shook her head from side to side as if to deny the images playing out in her mind.

The anguish in her voice was rattling him, and he took a deep, calming breath before continuing. "It's all right, Miaka, you can tell me. Who was it that died?"

She brought her hands up and covered her face. When she answered, it was muffled, but every word felt like the sharpest of knives being driven through his heart.

"_Nuriko_! Nuriko died, and I couldn't save him!"

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It had taken the better part of an hour for him to get Miaka calmed down and back to her room for a rest. A small part of his mind questioned the propriety of a monk tucking an adult woman into bed, but he ignored it as a matter of little consequence. Miaka was clearly worn out from her emotional morning; her eyes were already closing as he removed her shoes and drew the blanket over her fully dressed form.

He stood, studying her tear-stained face for a moment and assuring himself that she would stay asleep, before closing the door silently behind him. He needed to find Tasuki. Luckily, the distance between the rooms was short, and he could feel Tasuki's ki behind the closed door of the bandit's assigned quarters. He didn't want to leave Miaka alone for too long, just in case she had another flashback.

At his knock, Tasuki called for him to come in. The bandit was sitting at a small table, his head in his hands, unknowingly mimicking the position Miaka had been in during most of the past hour.

Chichiri dropped into the second chair with a sigh of appreciation, and then studied his friend. "Hangover, no da?"

"Not 'nymore." Tasuki muttered, without raising his head. "Jus' have a headache."

"Miaka's asleep, no da" the monk volunteered, propping his elbows on the smooth table.

The fiery head shifted and one amber eye peered up at him."What? Already?"

"She's had a rough morning, no da. She just spent an hour crying over Nuriko's death." Chichiri elaborated, pleased to see his friend's attention was now fully engaged.

"Whadda ya mean? She remembers Nuriko now? I saw her 'bout an hour an' a half ago, an' she didn't mention anythin' about him!"

"I think she just remembered that he died. She mentioned kneeling beside him and feeling helpless."

"Ya told her it wasn't her fault, right? Nothin' anyone coulda done, not even Mitsukake- wait, what about Tamahome? He was there when it happened! Did she-?"

The monk quickly shook his head, in full awareness of the undercurrents in what Tasuki was asking. "She didn't mention him. I assume she would have if she remembered him."

"Yeah. Of course she would."

As Tasuki stared balefully at the surface of the table, Chichiri was suddenly glad that the tessen was tossed on top of a heap of clothes in the corner, well out of Tasuki's reach. It wouldn't do for the bandit to start torching Taiitsukun's furniture, no matter how highly entertaining it would be to see the Oracle's reaction to the bandit's temper tantrum.

"I should probably go tell Taiitsukun that Miaka's recovered another memory, although I've no doubt that she already knows, no da." He told the bandit, with a small smile. "I know you're not feeling so well, but I'd feel better if you could sit with Miaka, just in case she awakens to a flashback while I'm gone."

"Sure, I can do that." Tasuki replied, failing in his attempt to sound nonchalant at the prospect. "So ya talk to her often, then...Grandma, I mean?"

"I wouldn't say often; usually only when it pertains to seishi business or my training. Why?"

"No reason. I just thought...well, doesn't she ever talk to ya about the state of the world an' all that?"

Something in the bandit's gaze told Chichiri that the answer was important, although he couldn't quite understand why Tasuki would suddenly have developed an interested in his discussions with Taiitsukun, or why he'd bother asking about them. "I can't recall Taiitsukun ever discussing anything like that with me. She keeps her own counsel from what I've seen. Why, is something wrong?"

"No. Just was wonderin', that's all. Go on, an' I'll keep Miaka company."

Chichiri shot Tasuki another concerned glance, but decided not to pry. His friend really was looking unwell, and a hard night filled with sake hadn't helped matters. The monk moved to show himself out, then stopped in the doorway as a thought struck him.

"I do remember one time when Taiitsukun discussed world affairs with me, actually. It was because my actions had the potential to impact others in a way that could have been devastating. But whether she stepped in to make sure I made the correct decision, or to add extra weight to an already onerous burden, I never did figure out."

"Yeah. That sounds like Grandma, all right."

The flame-haired seishi's laugh lacked it's usual boisterousness; the monk also discerned a distinct tone of bitterness which confirmed his sudden suspicion that Tasuki and Taiitsukun may have had a similar discussion.

"So she's spoken to you about something of that nature?"

A slight pause. "Nah. It was nothin' like that."

Chichiri was hesitant to leave it there, but then decided he'd let the obvious lie slide for the moment. With a small salute of farewell, he went off to find Taiitsukun.

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Tasuki slipped quietly through the door and crept over to the chair, taking care not to disturb Miaka's slumber. Her hair was tangled on the pillow and there were tear stains on her cheeks. Paired with swollen eyelids and red nose, she looked a sorry sight. It was difficult, but he resisted the urge to smooth away the lines of worry from her forehead, and the errant strands of hair that had fallen upon it.

He had resigned himself to living out a life without her. He had pined, agonized, and finally come to terms with it, only to have that hard won acceptance snatched away when she was at his side once more. Now that he'd had his lips on hers and his hands pressing that delicious little body against his own, how was he supposed to let her go? Of course, if Taiitsukun was hinting at what he thought she was, he wasn't supposed to let her go. Instead, he was supposed to be encouraging the same emotions in Miaka.

He bit his lip to stifle a heartfelt groan. It would make things so much easier if she didn't reciprocate his feelings; then he could tell himself that it could never happen, and that was that. Still, he had to wonder what could have been had she met _him_ first instead of Tamahome. Would they have become a couple instead? Could his 17- year- old self have understood what his miko needed from him emotionally? He knew he had done all right on the friendship front, but romantically? Would he have known then, as he did now, just how precious and wonderful the girl sleeping in front of him really was?

If it had been Miaka and Tasuki, would Nakago have succeeded?

Miaka had pulled Tamahome from the brink several times with her love, most notably after Tamahome's family was murdered. Could she have done that had their relationship been anything less than what it had become? And without Tamahome, they would not have won, so Tasuki had to concede that Little Ghost and Miaka was meant to be.

So who was he to mess with goddamned _fate_?

He leaned back in the chair, his hands laced behind his head, and closed his eyes. Miaka's tortured, hurt expression kept flashing through his mind. He'd really screwed that up, no doubt about it. Pulling away so abruptly, making her feel as though she'd done something wrong... it wasn't one of his finest moments. He could only hope the talk they'd had earlier this morning had done some good in reassuring her. The last thing he wanted to do was to push her away.

He sighed, and then nearly toppled over when he heard it mirrored. He quickly brought the chair forward, the front legs thumping down as he righted himself. Miaka was awake, and watching him with an expression much older than someone her age should be wearing. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it upon realizing that he had no idea at all what he was supposed to say.

"I was the Priestess of Suzaku. That's what Taiitsukun called me," she stated, sitting up and letting the blanket pool around her waist.

"Yes." That was easy enough to answer.

"And Mitsukake, Nuriko, and there must be others- they're all dead." Her gaze burned into his, so filled with agony that he had to swallow hard and look down at the floor for a moment.

"Yeah, all 'cept me and Chiri." He slid up his shirtsleeve and showed her the softly glowing yoku. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight. "We all had... _have_... a sign that shows our purpose is ta protect the priestess."

"Your purpose is to protect _me_?"

_Even without the yoku, I'd protect ya _is what he wanted to say. Instead, he simply nodded.

He waited for her to ask about Tamahome or the others, but she fell silent. "Ah...do ya remember anything else?"

She gave a little half smile, deepening the small dimple in her cheek. "No. Just brief flashes and the knowledge that they're gone. I'm hoping some happier memories come next." She hesitated. "There _were_ happy memories, right?"

He smiled a little himself, remembering the companionship, the rare moments of frivolity, the bickering and squabbling that had marked them as a family where it counted. "There are lots of happy memories. _Loads_ of 'em."

She nodded, lifted the covers and slid out of the bed. Her eyes were still haunted by a sadness so palpable that Tasuki could feel it. He irrationally wondered if this is what Chiri always felt from people. If so, it went a long way to explaining why the monk was so good at offering comfort. Who _wouldn't_ want to help after feeling that radiating off of someone?

A basin of water was on the table next to his chair and Miaka moved towards it, clearly intending to wash her face. She stopped as she drew even with him, her expression now so closed and shuttered that Tasuki wondered if he had imagined the pain he saw in her face only moments before. "They all died. But you lived. You and Chichiri."

He blinked. How was he supposed to answer that? _Yes_ was too obvious, even for him, and anything else sounded flippant. He settled for saying nothing, tipping his head upwards so he could return her scrutiny.

"I'm so glad," she breathed, and her small hand reached out to caress the side of his face. Her touch was feather-light, tickling the fine hairs and sensitive skin and he felt himself flushing slightly under her penetrating stare.

And then her hand was gone and she had turned away, busying herself with the water, leaving him a few precious minutes to get himself pulled together. He wondered what was going on inside her head because nothing of her thoughts were showing on her face. The Miaka he knew had always been an open book. It made him a little sad, knowing how easily she was able to hide herself from him, while at the same time he congratulated her mental control. That had to be a positive sign, right?

Her voice pulled him away from his thoughts. "I want to see him," she said, blotting her face with a soft cloth.

"Who?" He asked, thoroughly confused.

"Suzaku," she replied, then clarified upon seeing his eyes widen in alarm. "Isn't there a statue or a temple or something?"

"Oh, that," he sighed, relieved. "I'm sure there's one around here somewhere. Grandma knows more 'bout the beast gods than anyone else, so she's gotta have somethin' ya can look at."

It was Miaka's turn to look confused. "_Beast_ gods?"

"I shouldn'ta said that," he muttered guiltily, lacing his fingers together and staring at the nails. "Pretend ya didn't hear anythin'."

Although Miaka pursed her lips and reluctantly let the topic drop, Tasuki could tell she was getting tired of the evasion and non-answers. Regardless of their claims that it was for her own good, he wondered how much longer they could keep putting her off before her patience ran out.

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Taiitsukun was waiting for him, strengthening Chichiri's belief that she knew of everything that happened with Miaka as soon as it occurred.

"Her reaction to Nuriko's death is exactly why I refused to allow her memory to be recovered." The Oracle nodded as if pleased with her decision.

"Miaka isn't the one I'm worried about right now," The monk stated softly.

Taiitsukun's beady eyes narrowed as she replied. "The time has come for Tasuki to make his choice- a trial by fire, if you will. It is none of your concern, Houjun."

"He's my friend." Chichiri explained, his unwavering gaze meeting the Controller's as she stared at him.

"So friendship gives you the right to muddle with his destiny, does it?" Taiitsukun barked, her ribbons fluttering with her agitation. At that precise moment, Nyan-Nyan winked into existence, took one look at the Oracle's face, and disappeared again with a pop.

"At the risk of sounding impertinent, friendship gives me the privilege of supporting him through whatever trials he is to face." Chichiri spoke mildly, but allowed his thoughts to project back to the ancient being- friendship, love, acceptance, compassion. For all that Taiitsukun was the ruler of the world, he wondered if she truly understood how great and powerful those emotions were.

"And he has shared his concerns with you?" She asked sharply, probing past the thoughts he was projecting for information regarding the morning's affairs.

Chichiri flushed and averted his eye, remembering how the bandit had hesitated before assuring him that nothing was wrong. "He has not."

"Then there is nothing for me to tell you," she stated, although her features softened somewhat. "It is Tasuki's choice to share the burden or not. But I agree with you that he will need support, so I will say this to you, Ri Houjun. Do not judge him, no matter _what_ his choice, because it is likely to be the most difficult decision he will ever make." She waved her hand in dismissal and turned away.

Chichiri bowed, his thoughts racing. _Tasuki's trial by fire_, Taiitsukun had said. It was true that his friend had escaped the worst of what the other seishi had to deal with in their lives. Only Tasuki and Chiriko had relatively easy lives up to joining the other seishi, and if Chiriko's ordeal with Miboshi hadn't been a trial by fire of sorts, he didn't know what it could be called.

His heart still ached remembering the choice the boy had to make, and the courage he showed in the face of it. But the realization that Chiriko's trial had called for his death made Chichiri's blood run cold, and he wanted nothing more than to force Tasuki to tell him what was going on, so he could best protect his friend. However, he knew that Tasuki wouldn't appreciate being pushed, and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate the bandit at a time when he needed Chichiri's full support.

The monk wandered the hallways of the palace, lost in thought, trying to understand why the right thing to do was almost always the hardest.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/n**: This chapter contains spoilers for OVA2. Our favorite couple will return next chapter, I promise! As ever, many thanks to my beta,**KittyLynne**, who made this chapter better through her superb editing skills, for being willing to ask the tough questions. _

Reina Kimura hung up the phone and then reached into the top drawer of her desk to retrieve one of the granola bars she kept on hand for days like this. It took a few tries to snag the snack, as the manila file lying in front of her held the majority of her attention.

Still reading, she tossed the bar onto desk, and then bit out a soft hiss when she caught her index finger in the drawer as she closed it. Popping the sore digit into her mouth, she flipped a few pages over with her uninjured hand to uncover the photograph of the auburn-haired girl with large, wistful green eyes who had disappeared without a trace two days ago.

Reina usually didn't take on missing persons cases; she preferred to let her former colleagues at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department handle them without her interference. Yet when the mother of the missing girl had shown up at her office with a photograph album clutched in her shaking hands, Reina had offered her a cup of tea and, after hearing the scant details, told the grateful woman she'd do what she could.

It hadn't taken her long to realize that what she could do was next to nothing. A few phone calls placed to her friends at the Met hadn't yielded a single clue. By all accounts, the Yuuki girl had been practically catatonic for years, and hadn't generated any of the things an investigator would look for when seeking a missing person; emails, scribbles on a notepad, letters from associates, receipts, credit card statements. Nothing.

The only clue was that the girl had disappeared from inside a locked room in Tokyo's finest mental institution, and although Reina had heard of people managing to pick the locks of hospital doors, not many escapees stopped to _lock the door again_ as they were making their getaway! Experience would suggest that the girl had had some assistance.

Sitting back in her padded office chair, Reina stretched for a moment, and then unwrapped the granola bar, taking methodical bites while her mind processed the rest of the details.

Her last inquiry would involve getting hold of Miaka Yuuki's treatment files from the institution, something that also posed a major complication. Being a private investigator, she wasn't legally able to request them, but having served several years with the city's finest had its benefits; a few well-placed phone calls later, and the necessary evidence was on its way to her office via courier. Unfortunately, she had to have them returned within the hour, so once again she was skipping lunch in favor of work.

Reina frowned, thinking of how she'd had to tighten her belt again this morning. If she kept this up, pretty soon her trousers would be falling off, and she'd be forced to go shopping for new clothes. The unwelcome thought prompted her to root amongst the folders on her desk to find the date book half buried beneath them. Opening it up, she scribbled in barely legible writing, _start taking regular meals_. She was sure it said something about her that she had to remind herself of such a thing, but frankly, she didn't want to know what it was.

She knew she worked too hard. She saw the evidence of it every morning in the mirror- the dark half moons under her eyes, the sallow skin that moved her directly from the Not Particularly Attractive category into Barely Presentable, the untidy dark hair that she shoved back in a serviceable bun, and of course, her rapidly shrinking figure. Despite those drawbacks, she liked her work, liked knowing that she had build her PI business from the ground up, and that she was damn good at it. Getting wrapped up in her job kept her from dwelling on the reason she left the Met to begin with, and working herself into an early grave was far better than cutting her wrists in a moment of despairing weakness.

Yuck. The granola tasted like sawdust, but she forced herself to keeping chewing while directing her thoughts back to the Yuuki case. Miaka had been institutionalized at a young age- just 20- after telling her shrink that she was the mystical priestess to a giant bird god, in a land that she traveled to through a book in the library. That startling announcement came just two years after the death of a brother the subject was especially close to, and the event had Reina questioning the necessity of such an extreme move to rid the girl of her fantasy. After all, she knew all too well the strange things grief did to a person. If believing herself a magical fairy princess – or a magical priestess- helped the girl deal with the loss, was it really all that harmful?

Then again, she would be the first to admit that she wasn't a psychologist or psychiatrist, although she certainly felt she qualified on some level after having spent so long on their couches.

Anyway.

So the girl had lost her brother, had been left with a mother she wasn't close to, had decided she was a priestess and got herself committed, and then what had happened? There were prescriptions for psychotropic medications, certainly, and radical therapies. For the duration of her treatments, Miaka Yuuki had been locked away from the only stabilizing influences in her life. So whom could she contact to help break her out, assuming she had the ability to contact anyone? If she hadn't, what reason could someone have for taking on the job of kidnapping a mental patient?

Altogether, it was an unusual and fascinating case.

Reina tapped her ragged, bitten fingernails on the desk, more impatient than ever to get her hands on the young woman's files.

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After an hour of roaming the halls of Mt. Taikyoku, Chichiri found himself in his favorite meditation garden, his mind still running in circles, even as he allowed his body to rest.

His conversation with Taiitsukun had brought back the flood of memories that he usually kept locked up tight. He knew it wasn't healthy to refuse to deal with them, but even now, decades after the fact, the emotions were still too strong. It wasn't the betrayal and anger of his impetuous youth, but rather the pain and regret of an adult, the belief that he had destroyed the two lives he cherished above all others.

As Houjun Ri, he had been blessed with a fiancée that he truly loved. He had watched as the young people in his village had been paired off to increase the wealth, status, and prosperity of their families, with little thought to whether or not the match was auspicious for the couple themselves, and believed himself the luckiest man on earth when the betrothal between himself and Kouran was sealed. For a time, he had believed that she had loved him as well. That charmed view of life had come to an abrupt end when he had walked in on Kouran and his best friend, but the pain of finding his beloved and Hikou in an embrace was nothing compared to what was to follow. Thinking back to that terrible day, he could only believe that his beloved Kouran had chosen to take her own life rather than having to live without the man she truly loved- Hikou.

He had been in agony, convinced that Hikou had driven Kouran to her death. Perhaps he had only been toying with her emotions. Maybe he had truly loved her, but had been unwilling to fight for her. Whatever the reason, the outcome was the same. Kouran was dead, and Houjun wanted revenge.

He remembered little of the fight that had forced his friend over the side of the river bank, or the storm that rolled in, flooding the village; only the panic on Hikou's face as he grasped the hand of Houjun, and Houjun's desperate attempts to haul his friend up and out of the swollen, deadly river. In that moment, all anger and hatred had fled. It was too late to save Kouran, but Hikou, the man who was like a brother to him, didn't have to die as well. And so he had held on, the only thing standing between Hikou and the insistent pull of the raging water.

But Death could not be defeated so easily, and it sent a log spiraling through the floodwaters, where it smashed into the side of his face and gouged out his eye, ripping flesh and crushing bone before continuing downstream. Houjun, his ruined eye searing with pain, blood flowing unchecked over the shattered cheekbone and dripping from his jaw, felt clammy fingers slip from his own, and it was over. Hikou and his village were claimed by the river, Kouran was dead at her own hand, and Houjun, unable to cope with the grief and self-loathing, retreated first to a monastery and then to Mt. Taikyoku, to become Suzaku no Shichiseishi Chichiri.

He had made the transformation so completely that nothing of Houjun remained. Nothing about Chichiri, the scarred, regretful warrior monk, resembled the optimistic and fortunate Houjun Ri. As far as he was concernedhis past life had died in the same flood that had claimed Hikou, his family, and neighbors.

Did his feeling that way mean he had failed his trial? He must have, because nothing of what had happened could be viewed as a success. Was this what would happen to Tasuki if events played out, or would Tasuki succeed in achieving what Houjun could not?

He admired Tasuki greatly, which would probably surprise the younger man. Tasuki's unflagging enthusiasm, loyalty, and open heart were all attributes that Chichiri felt were enviable. That something might happen to erase those traits was unfathomable, and Chichiri was willing to do almost anything to ensure that didn't happen, but how was he to help when Tasuki couldn't, or wouldn't, confide in him?

He closed his eyes, weary of the circles his mind kept leading him in. Tasuki was an immensely private person in many ways, as was he. He would have to trust in his brother warrior, and hope that Tasuki would turn to him when the time was right.

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Yui Hongo stepped out of the elevator, juggling her keys, a handbag that kept slipping from her shoulder, the day's mail, two DVD cases, and several cartons of takeout from the restaurant down the block. Since Tetsuya worked until very late, it had become a Friday night ritual for her to curl up with a good movie and some carry out noodles. She yearned for the familiarity of the practice, and what she hoped would be an uninterrupted evening, as the police had taken to stopping by at all hours to talk to her about Miaka's "mysterious" disappearance from the hospital.

Those hopes were dashed the moment she saw the short, casually dressed woman waiting outside her apartment door, holding a thick manila envelope. There was nothing about the woman's appearance or demeanor to suggest she was there in an official capacity, but somehow Yui knew this wasn't a neighbor dropping off a misdirected piece of mail. Her suspicions were confirmed when the woman turned towards her and met her gaze with one that had sharpened with recognition.

"Ms. Hongo?" Though unmistakably feminine, the woman's voice had a lower timbre than one would have expected, given her diminutive stature. It also sounded quite official, which made Yui wonder if her visitor was a police officer after all, despite her lack of a uniform.

"Yes. Can I help you?" She shifted her burden, used her hip to bump up a slipping takeaway box. The woman quickly moved to take the food, which Yui gratefully relinquished. "Thank you, I wasn't sure how I was going to open the door!"

"You're very welcome. I'm hoping that you can help me too. I'm Reina Kimura. I'm a private investigator and I've been hired to find Miaka Yuuki."

"I see." Yui tightened her grip on the keys and took a steadying breath. "Well, she's not here. The police have already been by, several times in fact, and I've already told them everything I know."

"Oh, I know she's not here," Ms. Kimura stated calmly, following Yui in through the open door. Toeing off her shoes, she added, "I have some questions about her disappearance, if you don't mind, and I'd like you to look at some things. Would you like these boxes on the table?"

She was already moving off in the direction of the kitchen.

_She's smooth,_ Yui thought grudgingly, watching her visitor. The woman had managed to get herself inside the apartment without waiting to be invited in, all without seeming rude. It was disconcerting, and Yui found herself almost wishing that it _had _been the police again.

"You visited Ms. Yuuki hours before she disappeared."

"Yes, I did. Mrs. Yuuki came by and asked if I'd like to visit Miaka."

"And did the two of you go together often?"

Yui shrugged and sat on the sofa as Ms. Kimura came back into view. "Usually once a month or so. We could only visit every few weeks, so we would go together once and then separately the next time."

"So say on week one, you visited together. Week two would be skipped, week three Mrs. Yuuki would go alone, and on week four, you'd visit. Week five would be skipped, and you'd both visit again on week six, repeating the pattern."

"That's essentially correct."

Ms. Kimura seated herself in the chair next to Yui; as she leaned forward, several strands of dark hair fell from the bun and brushed against her jaw. "But wouldn't that leave at least one week a month where Miaka didn't have any visitors?"

"Well, yes. I know it sounds awful, but it wasn't always... easy, seeing Miaka like that. We went together for moral support more than anything." _Gah! I've pretty much just told her that Mrs. Yuuki and I were the only visitors Miaka had._ Yui thought with chagrin. _She probably already knew that, but I'd better be more careful about what I say._

"No, it wouldn't be, would it? You're aware that Mrs. Yuuki denies visiting Miaka on that day."

Yui carefully schooled her features to show puzzlement and concern. "Yes, I'm aware of that; one of the police officers told me. But I'm not quite sure how that's possible, since she was seen by several people at the hospital."

The investigator suddenly smiled. "You're right of course. We also have her signature on the visitor's register, and both of you were videotaped at several different points throughout the hospital. I've got that evidence right here."

As she patted the large envelope and nodded as if the notion of anything else was absurd, Yui relaxed slightly.

Ms. Kimura continued pleasantly, "We also have her- and you- shown on videotape, exiting your apartment building. But it's the strangest thing; none of the cameras ever caught her _entering_."

_Shit_, Yui thought, as her blood ran cold.

"I also don't recall Mrs. Yuuki walking like a man. When I met her, she was femininity personified. The Mrs. Yuuki I saw on that tape was not at all effeminate. Maybe it was a man, maybe it wasn't, but it wasn't Mrs. Yuuki. Do you have a VCR?" The PI slid a videocassette out of the envelope as Yui shook her head. "No? Ah, well."

Her mouth was dry, but Yui managed to say, "I don't know anything about that." She forced herself not to blush or look away as the investigator's shrewd brown eyes took measure of her.

"Look, Ms. Hongo – or may I call you Yui?" At her nod, the other woman continued, "I can understand wanting to protect a friend. And I'm not the police, so I'm not here to try to get you in trouble! Mrs.Yuuki is frantic over her daughter's disappearance and wants to know that she's ok. My job is to find her. I didn't have to let you know who I was. I usually don't, actually; it's easier to get information that way. But I wanted to shoot straight with you. I don't know how you did it, but I think rescued your friend because you saw she was getting worse instead of better, and I think you know where she is. I hope you'll do the right thing and tell me."

Yui returned the gaze, keeping her breathing even and calm. "I honestly have no idea where Miaka is." It was the truth. She was probably in Konan somewhere, but it was a pretty big place. She could be at the bandits' stronghold Miaka had told her about, or perhaps she was an honored guest at the royal palace again. Wherever she had ended up, one thing Yui was certain of was that Miaka's seishi were with her. She hoped her friend was getting better, and that she was happy. It would be worth any punishment Yui got, as long as Miaka was doing well.

"Well, that's that, then," Ms. Kimura stated, rising from the chair. "If you change your mind or remember something, will you call me?" She slipped a card out of her shirt pocket and placed it on the small table by the front door.

"If I hear or think of anything more, I will call you." Yui stated, somewhat stiffly.

"Right," Ms. Kimura said, humor lurking in her dark eyes. "I'll show myself out."

The door closed behind her with a soft snick, and Yui exhaled sharply. She had the feeling she'd just been played like an instrument.

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Reina closed the car door behind her, let the seat back, wiggled a little bit to get comfortable, then reached underneath to pull out the laptop she'd stashed there. As she'd suspected, Yui Hongo wasn't offering up, so she'd have to get the information in her own way.

She flipped up the screen and leaned the laptop against the angle of her knees and the steering wheel. Pulling a set of ear buds from her pocket, she inserted them, then plugged the end into the jack on the side of the slim computer. A few rapid keystrokes and a small window opened, showing a grainy, black and white streaming feed from inside Yui's apartment. Luckily, the small kitchen had a clear view into the living room, so she was able to stick the minuscule camera on the underside of the kitchen table while she was depositing the takeout she had carried in. She had hoped not to use it, but she was also a practical woman.

The blonde woman was standing in the middle of the living room, her arms wrapped around her midsection, as if she were feeling chilled – or extremely nervous. The video quality was just poor enough to keep Reina from getting a good look at Yui's facial expression, but she consoled herself with the reminder that the audio was more important. She punched the volume up button a few times for good measure, but all was silent in the Hongo household.

As Reina watched, Yui finally got to her feet and moved- not to the phone as her observer surmised - but to a tall bookcase tucked into the corner of the room. Kneeling, she reached out to pull a thick tome from behind a neat row of books. The investigator squinted, but couldn't make out the title or any characteristics of the selection save for its size. The book looked to be very old, but that could also have been an illusion from the poor visual reception.

To her surprise, rather than open the book, Yui ran her hand over the cover and began to..._talk to it_?

"I hope you're happy, Miaka, and that Chichiri and Tasuki are taking good care of you. Have they taken you to Mt. Reikaku, or back to the Konan Palace? Are you getting any better? They've been asking about you here, but I won't let them find you." Yui leaned back on her heels and gave a rueful laugh. "They wouldn't believe me even if I told them where you were."

Every hair on Reina's arms stood at attention, and the back of her neck was prickling. _Chichiri_? _Tasuki_? _Konan Palace_? She'd read those names this very afternoon, in the files of the mentally disturbed girl.

She yanked one of the ear buds from her ear and twisted around to grab the photocopies from the passenger seat. Taking care to keep the computer balanced on her knees, she rifled through the transcripts of the Yuuki girl's therapy sessions until she came to what she was looking for.

_Dr. Sato: You say you had seven of these celestial warriors?_

_Ms. Yuuki: Yes. Tamahome, Hotohori, Nuriko, Chichiri, Tasuki, Mitsukake, and Chiriko. They were named for the seven constellations. Or maybe the constellations were named after them? That would make more sense, don't you think?_

_Dr. Sato: Mmmm. And did all of the priestesses have these protector warriors?_

_Ms. Yuuki: Well, I know Yui did- she was the priestess of Seiryuu- and I met some of the seishi of Byakko and Genbu as well- only Yui's seishi weren't anything like mine. I don't think she regrets leaving them behind._

_Dr. Sato: And you do?_

_Ms. Yuuki: (long silence) Well, I don't regret coming home or anything, not really. But I do miss them, very much. So many of them died fighting for me. In the end, only Tamahome, Tasuki, and Chichiri were alive._

Reina's head was beginning to spin.

_Only Tamahome, Tasuki, and Chichiri were alive. _

_I hope you're happy, Mi-chan, and Chichiri and Tasuki are taking good care of you._

_They've been asking about you here, but I won't let them find you. They wouldn't believe me even if I told them where you were._

_I know Yui did- she was the priestess of Seiryuu._

After she had finished reading, Reina took several slow, deep breaths, then pushed number four on the speed dial on her cell phone. After a short conversation with the receptionist, she was patched through to Dr. Hayashi.

"Reina? Do you need an emergency session?"

She shook her head, then realized how silly that was. She wasn't on the doctor's couch. "No. No, I'm fine, Doctor. I actually need your professional opinion for a case, if you have a moment."

"I'll help if I can. What would you like to know?"

"Is it possible that delusions are, I don't know, contagious somehow?" She hunched over a little, still watching Yui as she replaced the book on the shelf.

"Well now, that depends on what is causing the delusion. Are you referring to something like our cultural belief that the royal family descended from the skies? Or the Buddhist texts, which claim that we all suffer from delusion in one form or another? The religion of Aum Shinrikyo is a good example that delusion in one can easily feed it in others."

"What about in the case of someone suffering from a delusional disorder? Would others- undisturbed others- be easily convinced that something completely outlandish is the truth?"

"Not in my experience," the doctor said thoughtfully. "Usually the family and friends of such an individual encourage them to seek treatment rather than buy into the delusions, although if one is already prone to paranoia, they might be influenced."

"Ok, thanks. That's what I was looking for."

"Anytime. I'll see you on Tuesday, then?"

"Same time as usual. Thanks again, Dr. Hayashi."

Reina flipped the phone closed, and chewed on a fingernail. So Miaka had believed that Yui was part of her delusion. Yui seemed to believe it as well, unless Chichiri, Tasuki, Mt. Reikaku, and the Konan Palace were all a part of the real world. None of them sounded familiar, but perhaps they were nicknames for real people and places.

Yui had gone to put in a movie, she observed, and was now eating the takeout in front of the television. Reina opened a browser, taking care to keep the audio from the feed running, and began to search for any information relating to any of the names Yui and Miaka had used.

She would _not_ believe that the book Yui had brought out was anything more than an ordinary book. It just wasn't possible.

So why was she itching to get her hands on it?

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Yui sat up sharply, letting the bedcovers fall around her. Something had woken her from a deep sleep and she squinted out into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust to the blackness. She waited, scarcely breathing, but she heard nothing. The small digital clock beside her bed glowed 2:47 am.

She relaxed infinitesimally, lying back against the smooth pillow, wondering if it would be a good idea to let Tetsuya to install that home security system he had been hinting at. She had always laughed him off as being a worrywart, but maybe he was right; it wouldn't hurt to have it for extra peace of mind.

There! A slight rustle, coming from the direction of her living room. Yui swallowed and swung her legs out over the edge of the bed, moving as silently as she could. A quick glance at her bedside table told her she had forgotten to bring her cel in with her, and she mentally cursed her stupidity. All means of communication was out in the living room, along with whatever made that sound. Calling the police was out of question.

She wiped her damp palms on her nightgown. Maybe it was just Tetsuya, she tried to soothe herself. But he never came over on Friday nights, and even though he had his own key, he was far too considerate to come visit her this late at night.

She stood beside the bed, frozen with indecision until an eerie, familiar red glow lit up the hallway outside her open bedroom door shocked her into action. She shouted and raced out of the room, hardly realizing what she was doing.

She skidded to a stop as she met the startled gaze of Reina Kimura, who was sitting in the middle of the living room with the Universe of the Four Gods open before her, her visage awash in the crimson light pouring from the pages.

Her jaw slack and eyes wide, Yui watched the private investigator fade from existence.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: As usual, thanks to KittyLynne for the excellent beta. Qi Xi is real, as is the tale of the cowherd and the weaver girl. Tasuki's version is a blend of several different versions._

"Miaka? Are you ready, no da?" Chichiri called through the closed door.

"Just a minute please!" A lilting voice replied.

The monk turned away from the door and moved towards the main room where he and Tasuki had set up camp. He had given Miaka his own room to use as her sleeping quarters,

Taiitsukun no longer required their presence, so the two seishi had made the decision on where to house the miko.

Surprisingly, it had been Tasuki himself who had vetoed the stronghold, saying, "they're good guys, but they're _bandits, _dammit! I'd like ta think none of 'em would force themselves on a woman, but I ain't willin' ta test 'em with Miaka ta find out!" That point of view had narrowed their choice of residences to the Konan Palace or the monk's humble cottage. The decision had been an easy one. Both seishi had concluded that living in the public eye of Palace life wouldn't be the place for the miko to heal, so they had bundled up the few necessities that Nyan-Nyan insisted they take with them and traveled to Chichiri's abode via what Miaka liked to call 'the Monk Express'. Since their arrival, Miaka had been recovering quite nicely in the relative seclusion, occasionally wandering down to the small lakeside village with either himself or Tasuki when she needed a change of scenery.

The only fly in the ointment in regards to peaceful living was that the cottage had been built for only one person, and being in such cramped quarters was beginning to wear on everyone's nerves. It had gotten to the point where Chichiri had been on the verge of suggesting they should try living in the Palace after all, when Tasuki had approached him about the very welcome possibility of expanding the cottage to include a few more rooms. An agreement was struck, plans had been drawn up, and a messenger had been dispatched to Mt. Reikaku with a request for those of Tasuki's men who knew one end of a hammer from the other to be sent forth to the cottage. As soon they arrived, the construction would begin.

Tonight, however, was cause for celebration. It was Qi Xi, the Magpie Festival, and Miaka had asked them to escort her to the nearby village for the festivities. When she had mentioned it that morning, Tasuki had choked on his tea, but quickly recovered and agreed to the plan after a little coaxing. Chichiri had hoped his presence wouldn't be required, but resigned himself to the inevitable when Tasuki cornered him that afternoon and made it clear that they were _both_ attending.

"Doesn't Miaka know what tonight's all about?" Tasuki had asked, running an agitated hand through his thick red hair.

"I'm not sure, no da. Why don't you ask her?"

"If she doesn't know, _I'm_ not gonna tell her!" The bandit seishi had half-shouted, before looking around guiltily and lowering his voice to a hissing diatribe. "Things are finally gettin' back ta normal between us, an' I don't wanna go and spoil it by bringin' up any of that romantic kinda crap! You've _gotta_ come with us, Chiri!"

And that how he and Tasuki had come to be wearing their finest clothes- under direct orders from their miko, of course- and waiting around for Miaka to finish her own preparations.

"Why do girls always take so long to get ready?" Tasuki asked, propping one leg on the other and tilting his chair backward.

"Don't ask me, no da. I'm not exactly an expert on feminine rituals."

"She's the one who roped us in ta goin', but it's all gonna be done before we even get outta here!" Tasuki grumbled. His movements were antsy, and he looked uncharacteristically nervous, one tanned hand fiddling with the brightly colored beads that he wore looped around his neck.

Chichiri knew that Tasuki had been doing everything he could to keep the interactions between himself and Miaka as light as possible over the past two weeks. Evidence of any of the bandit's deeper emotions had been hidden since their last day at Mt. Taikyoku as he joked around and played the part of the happy-go-lucky bandit to the hilt. Chichiri said nothing, but wondered what it cost his friend to do so, for he could see glimpses of longing in Tasuki's eyes whenever the bandit was watching Miaka, and unaware of being scrutinized himself.

"Get a move on, Mi-chan! Ya don't want me to come in there and haul ya out over my shoulder!" Tasuki shouted in the direction of the closed door.

"You wouldn't dare!" Came the muffled response.

"Wanna test that theory?" The bandit retorted in a drawl, just as the door opened and Miaka came out, her expression serene and unhurried.

Chichiri was glad that he was on the opposite side of the small room, because it afforded him the best view of Tasuki's expression as the miko came into view. The brief flash of wonder in the bandit's eyes and the accompanying surge of _ki_ told the watching monk all he needed to know; Tasuki's feelings for Miaka were stronger than ever, and all that was holding the dam of emotion back was his friend's extraordinary force of will.

Once upon a time, Chichiri would have laughed at the idea that Tasuki was a patient man. Had his friend changed so much, or was he just now beginning to see and understand the true depths of the fiery seishi? He turned his gaze to Miaka, who looked stunning in an emerald silk robe delicately embroidered with gold thread. Her hair was gathered into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, a style that made her look like the woman she was and less like the girl from his memories. Decorative jeweled hair-sticks held the knot in place, and silk slippers peeked out from the modest hem.

She was lovely. As Miaka turned her head to speak to Tasuki, the last amber rays of sunlight from the window lit up her profile and shadowed her features and for one brief moment, Chichiri imagined it was Kouran standing before him. Feeling his heart constrict, he set his jaw and slipped his mask down over his ruined face, carefully placing a barrier between himself and his memories.

"If you want to join in the festivities, we need to leave right now." He said, his voice sounding rough to his ears as he strode forward and out the door.

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"Tasuki?" Miaka touched her escort's sleeve. Worry etched itself on her features as she stared after the retreating figure of the monk. "Is Chichiri feeling all right?"

"S'okay, Mi-chan!" Tasuki assured her with a wink. "He probably wants to get there before they run outta melon!"

He was also concerned about his friend, but knew Chichiri well enough to recognize when to keep quiet. The man was struggling with his own demons. Close as they were, there were some things that they just couldn't share with each other. In Tasuki's mind, that was something that strengthened their bond of brotherhood, rather than weakened it.

Miaka shot him a look that said she knew he was skirting the subject but that she was going to let it drop. He appreciated the maturity their miko had gained in the years since she left Konan. Would she ever be able to reflect on the changes her seishi had gone through as well? Would she ever remember them well enough to tell there was a difference between then and now? That thought was depressing enough to make him hurry to change the subject.

"So, Mi-chan, why are ya so keen on attendin' a Qi Xi festival anyway? Gonna make a wish for a husband?" As soon as the words left his mouth, the bandit cringed inwardly. It was too bad he hadn't worked out the mechanics to kick his own ass, or he would have done it right then.

Miaka had taken his arm as they started to move towards Chichiri and the path into town, but at his words, she stopped short.

"No! Of course not! I mean, I didn't know- you mean it's-" Her face grew flushed as she stammered, "-for couples-oh dear-"

Tasuki was amused despite himself. "One thought at a time, Miaka."

"I didn't realize it was _that _kind of a gathering," she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I thought it was a holiday for everyone."

"Hey now," he tugged gently on her arm to get her moving again, "It's okay! After all, any festival is an excuse to have a little fun, right? And I can't think of three people who need some fun more than we do right now, so c'mon already before th' damn monk beats us ta the sake!"

"Chichiri has been very kind to open his home to us." She admonished him without heat. Her smile was more of a grimace as she admitted, "But it has been a little... cramped."

Tasuki let out a loud guffaw. "That's puttin' it nicely!" He declared, and then added with a grin, " so if ya didn't know what Qi Xi is, I take it you don't know the story of the cowherd and the weaver girl?"

"No, I don't," she answered, sounding shy but intrigued. "Will you tell me about it?"

"Sure! Can't have ya runnin' around ignorant of the reason behind the Magpie Festival!" He said lightly. "Okay, ya see that star cluster up there," he pointed with the arm that Miaka wasn't holding, "those five? That's Zhi Nu, th' weaver girl, and that," he gestured again, to the west, "is Niu Lang, the cowherd."

"The story goes that the Jade Emperor had seven daughters. He loved them all, but he favored the youngest, as she was the prettiest, smartest, and the best weaver; her skill was such that she was given the task of weaving the clouds in the sky. Well one day, the daughters all decide ta come down from the heavens, and when they see a pond, they decide they want a bath. So while they're bathin', along comes Niu Lang, who sees them, and immediately falls in love with Zhi Nu. He steals her magic robe and hides it, knowing that she can't return to Heaven without it. But Zhi Nu also falls in love with him, so she willingly agrees ta be his wife."

Miaka smiled wistfully. "That's lovely."

"There's more," Tasuki informed her with the natural cadence of a storyteller. "The Jade Empress was furious that her daughter dared marry a mortal, so she comes down from Heaven and steals the weaver girl away from her husband. There's nothing Niu Lang can do but watch with his children crying at his side as his wife and true love is carried back into the sky. But Niu Lang is a good cowherd, and by and by his favorite cow says to him, "put your kids in a bamboo basket, and take my horn. It will carry you inta Heaven, where you can reach your wife." So that's what he does, and as he's gettin' close, the Empress waves her arm, and a torrent falls from the sky, formin' a river between the two lovers that the cow's horn can't cross. Niu Lang and his children can only watch her and weep."

Miaka gave a few quiet sniffles at his side and he patted her hand. "The Jade Emperor is moved by the love between the cowherd and his favorite daughter, but she's needed to weave the clouds in the sky, and she can't do that if she's not in the Heavens. And so he makes a decree that his daughter and her lover can meet only on one day out of the year, the seventh day of the seventh lunar month. On that day all the magpies fly up into the Heavens and form a bridge across the river of stars so Niu Lang and Zhi Nu can reunite an' embrace once more."

"It really is a festival for lovers," Miaka noted softly, a light blush staining her cheeks. "Thank you for telling me the story. But it's so sad that they love each other, and they're kept apart anyway. "

"Yeah." Suddenly, Tasuki was at a loss for words. Focusing on the figure of Chichiri on the road ahead of them, he made a silent, fervent wish that he wouldn't slip and make a complete fool of himself that night.

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Despite Miaka's mortification at dragging Tasuki to a festival dedicated to romance and Chichiri's puzzling behavior at the beginning of the evening, the three of them had a good time at the festival.

Chichiri had slowed his pace as they neared the festival, allowing his friends to catch up. Once in town, the three of them laughingly sampled the delicacies prepared by the young girls of the village and participated in the games. Tasuki nearly fell over laughing at Miaka's struggles in a race to thread a needle by lantern-light, and even Chichiri had a hard time hiding his mirth. Their miko threw up her arms in mock-defeat when all the village girls finished far ahead of her, and threatened to do the cooking for the next week if her seishi didn't stop laughing at her poor attempts at domesticity.

She fared better in the melon carving, skillfully removing fragrant bits of the flesh until she had a miniature replica of Tasuki's tessen. He claimed it was cheating to choose such an easy design, but she could tell by the way his skin crinkled around his eyes that he was pleased by her choice. She pleaded inexperience with turning fruit into household objects, and promised she'd practice so she could make something really wonderful for him the next year.

It was well past midnight when Chichiri suggested they return home. The evening was balmy and the moon was bright in the sky, so they started back on foot rather than through one of the monk's portals. Chichiri was telling Miaka a story about Tasuki and a particularly stubborn horse, and Tasuki was soundly refuting the monk's version.

Miaka hummed happily to herself as the men squabbled. Her cheeks hurt from laughing and she couldn't remember the last time she smiled so much. She was sated, slightly drowsy, and only a small bit embarrassed by the evening's earlier snafus.

The subtle light streaming down from the sky shaded everything in grey except for Tasuki's hair, still a vibrant red even bathed in the moon's glow. The brilliant color pulled at her, and her fingers twitched with the desire to bury themselves in his thick hair.

Miaka sucked in a breath. It was no good. She had tried to push aside the feelings that had been rising in her the past few weeks, but the truth was hitting her now; she was hopelessly attracted to the wing seishi, and there wasn't a darn thing she could do about it. Even worse was knowing that he was attracted to her but was determined to keep her at arm's length, even as he joked around and did everything he could to keep her spirits high.

She closed her eyes briefly, her previous good mood fleeing in the face of approaching melancholy. She didn't understand. She had spent a fair amount of time thinking about it since they arrived at Chichiri's home, and as best she could figure, there was something in her still-unknown past that kept Tasuki from giving in to the affections they both seemed to welcome. What could it be? What was so awful that it kept him from touching her?

She wasn't sure, but whatever it was, she cursed it.

She still had flashes of Tasuki from her memories, and with the added intimacy of living in such close quarters the past few weeks, she felt she knew him better than ever before. He was stubborn, opinionated and quick to anger, but also quick to forgive and laugh, loyal to a fault, courageous, and for some unfathomable reason, scared to death of water. Regardless of that fact, whenever she made her way to the lake for a swim, he sat at the edge of the beach and kept a watchful eye on her, ready to rush in if she showed any signs of needing help. That he did so always warmed her all the way down to her toes.

"Hey, Odango."

"Hm?" Unaware that she was sporting a dreamy smile, she turned to find Tasuki smirking down at her.

"What are ya grinnin' about?"

Miaka blushed and looked away. There was no way she was going to tell the man that she had just been thinking of him. Oh yes, that would go over _real_ well if she said, _Well you see, Tasuki, I was just thinking about what a wonderful person you are, and realized that I'm head over heels in love with you._

Her eyes widened and she stopped so abruptly that she almost fell over her own feet. No! Had she really thought that? Was she really in love with Tasuki?

"Miaka?" Chichiri's concerned voice pulled her from her stupor. They were several feet ahead of her, and both he and Tasuki were looking back at her where she had stopped. She stared at her friend, her face pale and her whole body starting to tremble. "Are you unwell?"

"No," she whispered, a refusal of her realization and not the question. Oh, this wasn't good; this wasn't good at _all_.

They were still staring at her, and she tried again. "I'm fine," she said, and she hoped her voice didn't carry the note of shock from which she was still reeling. "Really. I just..." and to her utter dismay, she felt tears spring to her eyes.

Tasuki moved then, towards her, worry clearly apparent on his expressive face, and she shrank back. If he touched her, if he spoke to her with his usual solicitude, she would fly apart into a million pieces and be lost forever. He stopped, a foot away, taken aback by her behavior and her apparent repudiation. She could see the perplexity and wariness in his beautiful eyes, and she felt her heart shatter.

"Please. Just...no. _Please_." She stared back at him, pleading with him to understand before she rushed past him towards Chichiri's house, which was barely visible in the distance.

"Miaka!" Tasuki's shout held bewilderment, and she heard Chichiri saying something to him.

She was almost to the door when the red light overtook her. She shrieked and stumbled backwards, momentarily blinded by the intensity, and she threw her arms up to shield herself.

Within a strong rush of wind, Tasuki appeared at her side. Wrapping one strong arm around her waist, he pulled her back.

"Get behind me and stay there," he ordered, and she did so quickly, spurred by the authority in his voice.

As the light faded out, she was able to see Chichiri standing across from Tasuki, his shakujō pointed forward in a battle stance. All traces of the good humor she had noted earlier were wiped away, and the sheer power she felt radiating from both men astounded her.

Her affable companions of the last few weeks were gone, and in their places were celestial warriors chosen of their god, fierce, protective of their miko, and imbued with deadly intent, if so necessary.

Miaka shivered as another piece of understanding fell into place. In her flashbacks she had sometimes seen them fighting, but this was the first time she had seen them prepared to do just that.

She peered around Tasuki's back, and gasped as the figure of a woman appeared, kneeling on the path in front of the rustic house. Who was she, and where had _she_ come from?

The woman seemed to have similar thoughts. "Where am I?" she blurted, before realizing that the two men were trained on her, ready for battle.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. It's true! She was right…"

The woman scrambled up, and Tasuki barked out a harsh warning. "Stay put, lady! Don't move!" Miaka couldn't see his face, but she felt his muscles tense in preparation for battle. "Who the fuck are ya?"

The woman's expression changed from amazement to caution; apparently she had realized the possible repercussions of her present situation. "I'm Reina Kimura, and I'm here to find Miaka Yuuki," she stated clearly.

"Why do you want with Miaka?" Chichiri asked. His quiet voice held a dangerous edge.

"Her mother is worried. She asked me to find her."

"My mother?" It slipped out before Miaka could think, and she stepped from behind Tasuki. She heard him give a quiet hiss, but she took another step towards the strange woman who had appeared from nowhere.

The woman's – Ms. Kimura's – face lit up. "Ms. Yuuki!"

"Do I know you?" Miaka asked hesitantly, taking in the odd clothes and short, dark hair of the stranger. She had seen clothes of that fashion before; there were some like it packed away in the traveling bag she had brought along.

"You don't, no. I'm a private investigator."

"You're not taking her back there!" Tasuki said roughly, his gaze still on the slight woman standing before him.

The stranger regarded him coolly. "I don't think that's your decision, Mr...?"

"Tasuki."

For some reason, this caused the woman to grin again. "Tasuki. I see." She turned slowly towards the monk, her hands held up in a sign of surrender. "So this must be Chichiri then."

Chichiri nodded, his scarred face showing no surprise. "Did Yui send you?"

"Not exactly. I spoke with her, but she didn't want to tell me where Miaka was."

"Then how the hell did ya get here?" Tasuki asked bluntly.

Ms. Kimura sighed. Her hands remained held up in front of her, palms forward, as she gave consideration to her answer. "Okay, look, it's a long story, and I'm rather wiped out from making this little discovery. Is there a more comfortable place where I can sit and tell my story?"


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: ** Many thanks to the amazing KittyLynne for the beta. Apologies to those of you who have been waiting for this. The next chapter shouldn't take two months._

They were seated at the small table in Chichiri's home while the monk made tea. He'd already herded Miaka into the small bedroom with the insistence that she needed sleep. When her protests that she wanted to hear what the visitor had to say became too much too handle, Tasuki had stepped in with an uncouth crack about her face and beauty sleep, which had earned him an earful but had the desired effect. Miaka was now in the little bedroom with the door shut firmly behind her.

The tension in the room was palpable. Tasuki sat in the straight-backed chair, his unblinking gaze never moving from the stranger. She sat quietly, her own gaze roaming around the simple furnishings, taking everything in as they waited for Chichiri to rejoin them.

The monk served Reina her tea first, before sliding a cup over to Tasuki and seating himself.

"Now, go ahead and explain why you're here." Chichiri said.

His voice was as cold as Tasuki had ever heard it. His muscles twitched while the woman took a deep breath and reached up to adjust her messy hair, obviously stalling for time. He almost hoped she was thinking of trying something; he was aching for a good fight.

"Like I said, I'm a private investigator. I was hired by Ms. Yuuki's mother to locate her and bring her home. It was easy to discover that Ms. Hongo knew Ms. Yuuki's whereabouts, so I bugged her apartment."

Tasuki's brow wrinkled. "What th' fuck do bugs have ta do with anythin'?"

The investigator's lips twitched. "Oh. Sorry. "Bug" is a nickname for a little device that lets me see and hear something that's happening in a place even though I'm not there."

"Like the…camera…that was in Miaka's room at the hospital, no da?" Chichiri asked hesitantly.

"Exactly!" Reina beamed at him, but Tasuki just shrugged. He'd get Chiri to explain it to him later.

"I had expected Ms. Hongo to try and get in contact with Ms. Yuuki after I left, but instead she pulled out a book and started talking to it." She continued. "I'd read Ms. Yuuki's medical files and knew she claimed to have entered a world through a book. Of course, I thought that was complete lunacy at the time, but since I'm here I can't keep thinking it's nuts, now can I?" Smiling a bit, Reina took a sip of her tea.

"But how'd ya get yer hands on th' book? Ya can't tell me Yui would have given it to ya!"

"She didn't. I... um... broke into her apartment so I could take a look at it."

Chichiri looked alarmed. "Where is it now?"

"Still in her apartment, I would think. I flipped it open to see if there was a two-way communicator inside – something that would allow Ms. Hongo to contact Ms. Yuuki- and all of a sudden there was this flash of bright red light and then I was standing out there with you guys ready to go all kung-fu on my ass." She gave them a reproachful look, and Tasuki snorted a bit. Served the woman right for not realizing the red light meant-

"It was Suzaku, no da," Chichiri stated.

Tasuki nodded, tipping the chair back on two legs and studying Reina. Nothing about her seemed especially remarkable, so why'd Suzaku bring her here?

"So what are you going to do now?" The monk asked her, calmly drinking his tea.

A look of discomfort crossed the investigator's face. "I don't know. My job was to find and retrieve Ms. Yuuki, but since I'm sitting here in what appears to be ancient China drinking tea, it's pretty safe to say she isn't crazy, and I can't very well force her to return with me. I suppose I'll talk with her and see if she'll agree to come back- er, how _am_ I going to get back, anyway?"

Tasuki scowled, annoyed by the assumption that Miaka would agree to return. "How th' hell are we supposed ta know? Guess ya should think twice before ya get yerself into somethin' that doesn't concern ya."

Chichiri gave him a look that clearly said, w_ho are you to be advocating restraint, _but the redhead simply shrugged it off.

Reina glared at him, her cheeks red splotches. "Well, _excuse _me for not realizing a book could be a time traveling device! It's not like it was a 50's police box or something _obvious_!"

"_Obviously,_ a box would be a good place for ya," Tasuki sniped back, before Chichiri intervened.

"Easy, Tasuki. Ms. Kimura's already said she's not taking Miaka back by force; even if she tried, she doesn't know how to return them. And Ms. Kimura-"

"Reina."

"-Reina then, you have to understand that's we're Miaka's-"

"Celestial warriors, gotcha. You protect her, I understand. I'm not going to be stealing off with her in the night or anything. Like you said, I wouldn't even know how to get back."

"Well, then," Chichiri said, looking surprised by how easily she gave in, "now that that's all settled, we can get some sleep, no da. I apologize that we don't have another room for you. Given the circumstances, I'm sure you understand that we'd rather you didn't share one with Miaka."

Reina nodded. "Fine. But before we turn in, I do have one more question if you don't mind."

"What is it?"

"In the files I read on Miaka's case said that by the end of the war only three of her celestial warriors remained. I see two of you are here with your priestess, so where's Tamahome?"

There was a strangled gasp from behind them. Tasuki leaped out of his chair and whirled around to find Miaka standing there, one hand on the doorknob, her face ashen and her eyes wide with grief. Her trembling lips moved wordlessly for several seconds before she managed to moan, "Tamahome…"

Tasuki reached her just as her legs crumpled and she slid towards the floor. He caught her easily, lowering her the rest of the way as gently as he could.

"What happened?" Reina asked urgently, leaning over Tasuki to peer at Miaka.

"Lady, I'm really gonna kick your ass!" He growled at her over his shoulder as he and Chichiri knelt beside the priestess' prone form.

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't remember anythin' that happened before, thanks to the jackasses in your world shovin' all kinds of shit in her body!" He spat, turning to punch the wall beside him in frustration. "An' now you went an' said the one word that had th' power to bring all those bad memories back!"

Reina watched him, warily tracking his movements as a long silence fell.

"Look, I'm sorry I mentioned something I shouldn't have," she finally said, making sure to keep her tone even. "But don't blame me for what those doctors did to her! I had nothing to do with it!"

"Tasuki, I know that wall might be torn down anyway, but let Kouji do it, no da." Chichiri said, before the other seishi could answer. "Better to put your energy towards helping me get Miaka to the bed."

With a last venomous look at the intruder, Tasuki complied. As they moved Miaka into the small room and beneath the covers of the bed, he felt a cold sweat replacing his anger. She was so pale…almost like death. Who knew what sort of state her mind would be in when she awoke?

He wouldn't allow himself to think that she might not awaken at all.

When he was a boy, he had heard whispered talk of a village woman who died of grief after the death of her husband. But Miaka wouldn't do that. She couldn't. She had people to live for... like Chichiri, for instance. Didn't she and the monk share a close friendship?

And th ere was himself, of course. But try as he might, he couldn't wipe the events of the evening from his mind. The look in her eyes as she held her hand out, distancing herself from him, the way she stepped back as he tried to move closer... she had rejected him, for some unknown reason, so could he really be considered a reason for Miaka to want to live?

He felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder- it was that damned woman again. He spun, intending to smack her arm away. To his surprise, Reina caught his wrist in a vise-like grip and met his gaze with eyes that held a challenge of her own. "She'll be all right, Tasuki. She's strong."

"How th' fuck can ya say that? Ya don't know anythin' about her!" He narrowed his eyes, tensed and ready to retaliate if she didn't release him within the next few seconds.

"Because she's been OK so far. She lived through years of treatments that you can't even imagine, and she's still not broken. That tells me she's stronger than any of us in this room- and that includes _you!_"

She held his gaze, but released his wrist and let her arm fall to her side. He glared at her for a moment more before turning away.

He hated it when women were right.

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Tasuki was sitting with the unconscious Miaka, and the woman from Miaka's world had bedded down under a borrowed blanket in the front room, so Chichiri wandered out of the crowded cottage and walked the short distance to the lake front.

What was it, he wondered, that drew him to water after all these years, even after it had taken the lives of all he held dear?

They had been on his mind all day- Kouran and Hikou, his mother and the villagers. He wasn't sure why the ghosts of the past had chosen this day to linger within the front of his mind, but he wished with all his heart that they had chosen a less-complicated day to haunt him.

He sat down on the pebbly beach, just shy of the water line, and watched the small waves lapping at the stones. He should be sleeping; tomorrow was promising to be a busy day, with the arrival of the bandits turned carpenters, Ms. Kimura, and Miaka's again-questionable mental state, not to mention the giant headache that has appeared somewhere between Ms. Kimura's arrival and Miaka's collapse.

Something tickled the edges of his chi, so he straightened, tensing slightly until whomever was approaching could be identified. He relaxed only slightly when he saw the vague outlines of the mysterious investigator appearing in the moonlight.

She said nothing until she was a few feet away, then gestured at the spot beside him with a sweep of her hand. "Hello. Is this beach taken?"

Beneath the mask, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Taken where, no da?"

"Never mind." She grinned and plopped down next to him. "Pretty place."

"Yes." He wondered what she was doing here, if she'd sought him out of just happened to come across him. "Are you having trouble sleeping, no da?"

"Could you sleep if you'd landed into a whole other time and place?" Reina asked him.

Thinking it the wiser thing, Chichiri said nothing.

"But that's right, you _have_ done that before- when you went and freed Ms. Yuuki."

"I've done it twice," he corrected softly. He had no idea what Miaka had told the healers in her world, and what they had passed on to this perplexing woman…but he had a feeling she probably knew far more about him than he would have wanted.

"Really? When was the other time?" She had her elbows propped on her bent knees, staring out over the water.

"The first time we were in your world was when the warlord Nakago went through to conquer it and become a god himself. The priestess of Seiryuu- Yui - used her last wish to give Miaka the power to summon Suzaku before being devoured by the beast god. Miaka then saved everyone- Yui, our world, and yours. Tasuki, Tamahome, and I were all there to see it, no da." He didn't mention the spirits of the other seishi.

"Tamahome again. Where is he?"

"He's dead. That's all we know. He went to your world and for some reason, never met up with Miaka again. We don't know how he died."

"And Ms. Yuuki doesn't know he's gone?"

"Yes. When we first brought her back here, she didn't remember him or any of us. Her memories of some of us have slowly started to come back, but until today she had no recollection of Tamahome and what he was to her."

"She loved him?"

"That's putting it mildly, no da. I'm afraid the news of his death may break her."

Reina averted her eyes. "I'm sorry that my mistake caused this to happen. It wasn't my intention to cause her any more pain."

Chichiri shifted a bit and sighed He felt slightly guilty for siding with Ms. Kimura, but his inherent fairness wouldn't let him hold a simple accident against her. "It wasn't your fault. It was bad timing all around."

"She's been through so much, hasn't she? I have to say, I 'm half wondering if I'm going crazy myself. Maybe I skipped one too many meals." Reina dug around in one of her many pockets and pulled out something wrapped in shiny paper. She considered it for a moment before unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Nope, still not crazy. In my insanity, a protein bar would taste like something other than cardboard."

"Ah," Chichiri agreed politely, not having followed half of her statement.

"Maybe this is some strange dream," she muttered on, chewing vigorously. "Maybe Ms. Hongo hit me over the head with a stick or something and I've been knocked unconscious."

Chichiri tried and failed to image a stick-wielding Yui.

"Pinch me," Reina ordered, thrusting a sleeved arm directly into his line of sight.

"Eh?" The monk leaned back, startled. Maybe she was crazy after all.

"Pinch me," she repeated impatiently. "I want to know if I'm dreaming."

He tentatively reached out and squeezed the skin of her arm between his thumb and forefinger.

"Harder!"

He obliged.

"Ouch!" She jerked her arm away. "So I'm not dreaming, and I don't think I'm crazy, so I must really be here, right?"

"Your logic is dizzying, no da," Chichiri gave her a half-grin. "May I ask you a question?"

"You just did." She swallowed the last of the bar and stuffed the wrapper back in her pocket.

"Why do you investigate?"

She stilled, staring back out over the lake, suddenly looking very small. "It's the only thing I was good at, I suppose. I was a policewoman- someone who fights crime and protects people, like a seishi, I guess- but there aren't very many career choices for an ex-cop."

"You stopped being a... policewoman, no da?"

"Yeah." She muttered. "I quit."

_How could one quit fighting for and protecting those who need it_ ? The monk thought, staring out over the water. Hadn't it been a calling, something that tugged on the edges of her mind and compelled her to act, just as it had been for him? And what in the world could make someone walk away from that calling without carrying the tremendous burden of guilt?

"Tasuki and I can't stop being seishi as long as there is a priestess to protect." He said. "So if not you, who will protect those in your world who need it most?"

"Where I come from, there's a lot of police officers- literally thousands of them! Trust me, it's better this way. I was lousy at protecting people."

"What makes you say that, no da?"

Reina stood abruptly, brushing sand from her trousers and averting her face. "You'd say it too if you got the only person you wanted to protect killed."

He stiffened, struck by the truth and self-loathing behind the words. Before he could formulate a reply, she was walking away.

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Tasuki sat by Miaka's side, staring blindly into the darkness and listening to the soft exhalation of each breath she took. He wished he were angry. Anger was good, purifying, _something _other than this awful emptiness. He sat, afraid to move or make a sound, for fear that whatever spell Miaka was caught in would be broken and her mind would be shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

It was his fault. She'd been distressed even before that other woman had showed up, and he'd disregarded it as _not as important as this_, when in reality, nothing was more important to him than Miaka's happiness, Miaka's distress, Miaka's safety. Why couldn't he have remembered that just a few hours earlier? But he didn't, and he'd said thoughtless things to get her to go in the bedroom, and he'd never once checked to make sure she had _stayed _in there.

In other words, he'd fucked up. Royally. _Again_.

He heard the door creak open behind him and soft footsteps moving towards Miaka and the bed. Chichiri.

"She hasn't woken at all?" the monk asked softly.

Tasuki sighed, all the answer he needed to give.

"I'll sit with her, no da. Go get some sleep if you can- Kouji should be here bright and early."

He considered refusing, telling Chichiri that he was fine and he'd sit here with Miaka until she woke, but he knew his friend was right. He needed to clear his head, and he needed sleep.

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"Knock knock! Who's there? Why, it's Genrou's best buddy Kouji, come with a boatload of mallets and bandits, ready to knock down the monk's house! Kouji, so nice to see ya, come in, man! Don't mind if I do!"

Tasuki rolled over and briefly considered blocking out the noise with his pillow before the excitement at seeing his friend again overcame his exhaustion. He vaulted himself up from the floor, almost tripping over his blanket, as Kouji shoved the door open and the two were reunited in a loud, boisterous bandit dance, replete with slaps on the back and much laughter.

A muffled groan came from a lumpy bundle of blankets nearby. A shock of dark, untidy hair appeared, followed by a pair of bleary eyes. "Are you two _dancing_? Bloody hell! What time is it?"

Kouji looked from the face back to Tasuki. "Hey man, that's not the miko! Where's Miaka?"

"She's around! Keep yer pants on!" Tasuki retorted. "That woman," he waved vaguely in Reina's direction, "is also from Miaka's world. Showed up last night an' all hell broke loose."

Kouji snickered. "Th' women from that world like stirrin' stuff up, huh? I feel sorry for th' men there."

Reina rose from the blankets with a cool expression on her face and began to fold the bedding she had used, purposely ignoring the men.

That served Tasuki just fine. "So about Miaka-" he started to say to Kouji, only to have the blue-haired bandit cut him off.

"It'd be good ta see her again! D'ya think she'd mind if I went an' said hi?"

"Ah- well, ya see-" Tasuki scratched his head, not knowing where to start in explaining Miaka's situation. He shot another dirty look at the investigator's back. If _she_ hadn't shown up, he wouldn't be having this difficulty…

"Hello, Kouji! Do you remember me?"

Three heads swiveled to the doorway, where Miaka stood, a warm smile stretched across her face. Chichiri was behind her, mask firmly in place.

"Of course I remember ya! How ya been?"

As Kouji crossed the room with a few long strides, smiling widely, Tasuki took advantage of the distraction to study Miaka. Her eyes were a little red and puffy and her smile seemed sadder, but those were the only visible signs of the previous night's distress. He breathed a sigh of relief. She obviously remembered everything if she was greeting Kouji like an old friend, and she seemed all right with it from what he could tell.

Her strength amazed him.

When Tasuki finally dragged his eyes away from Miaka, he saw that the investigator woman was watching him with an inscrutable expression.

"_What?_" He snapped, discomfited by her scrutiny.

"Nothing," Reina murmured. With a close-lipped smile, she turned away.

_Damn women_.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N**: As always, thanks to KittyLynne for her masterful beta work, and my apologies for posting this so much later than I had anticipated. The end of the summer got in the way._

Miaka leaned back against the tree closest to her and sagged in relief. Her face ached from the smile she had worn all morning, and her eyes were stinging from unshed tears. Now finally, blissfully alone, she was able to drop the mask and allow the pain to show.

She remembered everything. She wished to Suzaku that she didn't. She'd actually been happy- _happy-_ during the weeks she'd spent in Chichiri and Tasuki's company. And that felt like the greatest betrayal of all. How could she have been content when Tamahome no longer existed in this world orher own?

Chichiri had told her this morning, gently, after she had begged to know. Tamahome had followed her to her world. He had died. That was all he knew, he explained hesitantly, and she had understood from the rough grief so apparent in his eye that it was the truth. If she wanted more details than that- and she did-, she would not be able to get them from her seishi.

She had waited for Tamahome for five years before she was hospitalized, and another three had passed while she was in treatment. She'd lived without him for eight years. So why was she trembling as though she had lost him only yesterday?

She slid down, the rough bark scratching her back through the silk tunic, and buried her face in her hands. How could she have forgotten him? Even though she had no memory of the others, she had never believed that his image could be wiped so completely from her mind. Even worse, she had fallen in love with another man in the interim! What sort of person _was _she?

She moaned, the sound muffled against her palms, and let the tears come.

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"Wait! _No_! Not-"

_Thud! _The impact of the falling wall shook the earth beneath their feet. Several of the bandits cheered, slapping each other on the back for a job well done.

"- _that _wall, no da," Chichiri finished weakly, slumping in defeat.

Kouji realized the problem almost immediately, looking up from the paper on which he had been scribbling a haphazard design. "What th'- oh _shit_! Move! Get outta th' way!" He gestured wildly, his eyes wide with alarm. The bandits fled as the remaining walls swayed slightly before collapsing upon themselves gracefully. A cloud of dust mushroomed up from the sandy ground as the last boards landed with a clatter.

"Ya morons!" Kouji yelled. "That was a _support _wall!"

The monk surveyed the remains of his cottage mournfully, the mask mirroring his dismay. "Sweet Suzaku," he murmured, leaning into the firmly planted shakujō, "give me strength."

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Tasuki wasn't one for introspection, under normal circumstances. He was a man ruled by emotion, spontaneity, impulse, and in many cases, sake, and he rarely stopped to think about the consequences of his actions, often to his fellow seishi's chagrin. Nevertheless, and even though he had never faced a situation like this, every cell of his being was screaming out for him to _do it right _time, which meant two things. One, he was going to think this through before acting. And two, he wasn't going to fuck it up if he could at all help it, which circled right back around to number one.

All this explained why he was off tromping through the woodlands around Chichiri's village while his bandits were hard at work. Normally he'd have stripped off his shirt and dived right into helping them as a way of reconnecting with his men. But last night's revelation had changed things on so many levels.

What would Miaka think of him now, he wondered, stifling a groan at the thought of the kiss they had shared at Taiitsukun's palace. Gods, how was he ever going to face her? At the very least, he could expect that she would slap him silly for coming on to her, now she knew of their respective histories with Tamahome.

No, he backpedaled quickly. Miaka was too kind and wouldn't smack him, even though he deserved so much more. He deserved every accusation and insult she could possibly hurl at him. What had he been thinking, kissing her, taking advantage of her infirmity and her trust? Hadn't Suzaku chosen him to protect the miko? What the fuck was he doing in _exploiting _that?

But then again, didn't Suzaku _want _him to exploit that relationship now? How else was he supposed to keep the great scarlet chicken around for future generations? Tasuki slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead.

"Stupid, _stupid _idiot!" He growled.

As if his own problems weren't enough, he had to deal with the angst of Grandma and her feathered friend. It wasn't fucking fair. The things he was really good at were fighting, roasting things with his tessen, drinking, brawling, and banditry. He was definitely _not _good at figuring out romantic entanglements or solving the existential problems of a god and an old lady with the face of a Shar Pei!

He took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind of anything that did not relate to the problem at hand. The facts. He was in love with Miaka. Suzaku chose him to protect Miaka. Miaka loved Tamahome, but she had become attracted to him during her memory loss. In order to save Suzaku, Miaka would need to fall in love with him and truly want to stay with him, forsaking her world.

As before, it all came back to loyalty. To whom did he owe his?

Tasuki pushed up the sleeve of his tunic and stared at the yoku that was now clearly visible on his forearm. Did this mark him as belonging to Suzaku or to Miaka? His stomach churned with anxiety as he considered the implications of that choice.

Gritting his teeth, he moved a little faster, the slight breeze drying the sheen of sweat against his skin. He wished for the carefree days when he and Kouji had lived together at the stronghold, neither of them worrying about anything more than being the best bandit possible. But then the Boss had gotten sick and everything had become infinitely more complicated. Who would ever have thought it all would lead to a lowly bandit holding the fate of a god in his hands?

He still hadn't figured out what to do when he heard the shouts coming from the direction of Chichiri's cottage. Adrenaline rushed through him as he called forth his seishi speed and raced towards his friends.

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Reina coughed politely in an unobtrusive attempt to announce her presence to the woman crouched down against the tree.

It worked. Miaka hurriedly wiped her eyes and rose to her feet, pasting on a bright smile as she did so. "Oh, hello. I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was here."

"No need to apologize. I'm the one who's intruded," Reina answered, tilting her head slightly as she considered the remarkable young woman standing before her, wondering what meeting her could mean for her own life.

The silence stretched out and became strained. The miko fidgeted.

"So. You've seen my mother." She finally said.

Reina inclined her head. "Yes."

"How-" Miaka broke off, started again. "How is she?"

"Very scared," Reina answered bluntly. Her heart ached for the confused young woman before her, but she was owed the truth. "She's worried how you'll cope being away from the hospital."

The miko shook her head vehemently. "I'm not sick! I don't-"

"I know. Don't worry, I'm not going to take you back against your will." As Miaka sighed in relief, the corner of Reina's mouth curved upward in a crooked smile. "Besides," she continued blithely, "if I ever tried taking you away that hotheaded seishi of yours, he'd kill me!"

The investigator smirked inwardly as a light flush infused the miko's cheeks. As she had suspected, that _was _the lay of the land.

"Tasuki has a good heart," Miaka defended her warrior and friend. Now it was her turn to smile at the look of disbelief on Reina's face.

"I'll take your word on that," the older woman replied dryly, reaching out to pluck a leaf from a low-hanging branch. "So, got any ideas on how _I _can get back home?"

"How did you get here to begin with?" Miaka blurted, then slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

Reina chuckled and shredded the leaf, allowing the bits to fall to the forest floor. "No, not at all. It's a valid question, and I'm sorry to say the answer involves breaking into your friend Ms. Hongo's apartment."

"Yui! How is she?"

"She seems fine. She misses you and she's protecting your secret very well. I wouldn't have known about the book had I not bugged her apartment."

Miaka gasped. "You _what_?"

Reina shrugged. "It's my job. I thought that you needed help at the time, so I did what I had to do to find you. Would you like me to apologize for that?"

Miaka turned her head away, and then peered out of the corner of her eyes. "Suppose I say yes?"

"I would refuse." Reina replied firmly, but smiled to take the edge off.

To her surprise, Miaka laughed; a hesitant and shaky laugh at best, but it was genuine. "You remind me of Yui, Ms. Kimura. I would have liked to have heard the conversation between the two of you."

"Call me Reina, please. And yes, it does appear we're both stubborn and hardheaded, doesn't it?" The investigator said cheerfully. "Quite honestly, I liked your friend. She's got moxie!"

Miaka's smile grew wider. "She'd appreciate hearing that. I'll have to tell her."

"So you have been thinking of going back?" Reina asked bluntly, and the younger woman's smile disappeared.

"I...maybe. I don't know. In any case, I suppose we should go see Taiitsukun. If anyone knows how to get you back to our world, it would be her."

Reina stared hard at Miaka, who lowered her eyes and bit her lower lip. "You know, I'm really not in any particular hurry to get back, Ms. Yuuki. You've been through a lot, and just went through reliving a traumatic set of circumstances. If you need more time to make your decision, just say the word."

"I think I would like more time, if that's all right. And please, call me Miaka."

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Knowing that she'd been given control over her situation, Miaka felt the tension between herself and the investigator ease. As the minutes ticked by, she was delighted to find that Reina was good company, and that the investigator's bluntness and perception was not always something to fear.

By the time they decided to walk back to Chichiri's cottage, they had attained a camaraderie that was based on more than a shared home world. However, that pleasant surprise was replaced by blank shock when they broke through the tree line to discover that the small dwelling had been reduced to a pile of lumber.

The bandits were standing in small clusters around the pile of rubble. While Chichiri and Kouji stood off to one side looking at the contents of a scroll that the blue-haired bandit held, Tasuki was in full rant mode, striding back and forth between the groups of contrite men as he flailed his arms and occasionally pointed to the demolished house.

As she watched him, Miaka's breath caught in her chest; he was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him. The sunlight gleamed off the coppery highlights in his thick hair in a way that she could have sworn that it was actually a golden halo. The muscles of his strong legs flexed as he moved, the tight breeches clinging to them. His sleeves were rolled up, and as he gestured she could see the yoku on his forearm, the mark that signified he was one of Suzaku's warriors, chosen to protect her.

The vision came suddenly, blocking out her vision so she could see only Tamahome's face as he gestured to the oni on his forehead.

"_I know now why I exist. I exist because of you, Miaka!_"

She took a step backwards and the image faded to the flame-haired bandit as he strode purposefully around the clearing. _Get it together, Miaka_, she berated herself. _You're of no use to anyone like this!_

It was in that moment that Tasuki met her eyes. She could feel a blush coming on as he stopped abruptly in his pacing, then felt it drain away as he blanched and just as quickly turned away from her to resume his rebuke of the dismayed bandits.

Her thoughts raced back to a gloriously sunny day in Taiitsukun's courtyard. She'd been so forward with him- she'd _kissed_ him! What must he think of her? She'd been so completely wanton that he probably couldn't bear to look at her now. She'd used her grief to foist herself on him...

Wait. What about him? He'd been telling her...

She reached out and gripped Reina's arm, hard, as realization flooded through her. Tasuki had just learned about Tamahome's death. He'd talked to her about it, taking care not to let too much slip, for fear of hurting her. How hard that must have been for him!

And then she had thrown herself at him.

"Oi, Miaka, are you all right?"

Miaka could barely hear the investigator's concerned voice over the rushing in her ears. She shook her head, not in reply to the question, but to try to clear her thoughts. She was dimly aware that Reina was leading her gently to the small pile of household goods that had been cleared, and where several chairs were neatly stacked.

"It's okay. I'm fine." Her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away, and a small part of her mind was puzzled, sure that she had not spoken. "I think I want to go for a walk along the shore."

"I'll come with you."

"No. I'll be fine," she said vaguely. "I just need... to think." Her gaze sought out Tasuki once more, and Reina patted the hand that was still clutching at her arm before detaching it gently.

"Don't stray too far away, hmm? I don't want Red taking my head off if you get eaten by a bear or something."

Miaka tried to smile at her before turning towards the lake and solitude.

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Chichiri could have been having a better day. He could have been fishing, or meditating, or grinding incense, or even paring his fingernails; any of those would top the experiences in home repairs thus far. He sighed and ran a hand across the mask, over the eye that was gritty from lack of sleep. It didn't help with the mask in the way, but old habits were hard to break.

"So whadda ya think?" Kouji asked, using a blackened stick to point to the design with a flourish.

Chichiri blinked a few times to bring the picture in focus. Surprisingly, it looked good, if they could get it built. A big _if_, he had to concede, after seeing the destruction of his small cottage.

"How long will it take, no da?" He asked Kouji, who stretched and then scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, we got access to th' materials right here, so I'd say three days if th' weather holds out."

"Let's get to it then," Chichiri said, trying to sound enthusiastic about the process.

The bandits had already separated the usable lumber from the rubble, so Kouji called out for Tasuki's assistance in "gettin' rid of th' junk". His fellow seishi grinned and pulled the tessen from its holder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chichiri saw Reina move toward the rubbish heap, staring at the fan with unbridled curiosity. "Reina! You might want to back up a little, no da!"

She had just opened her mouth to ask why, when Tasuki's cry of "REKKA SHIN'EN!" lit up the clearing with crackling, fiery energy.

"Oh _sh-!_"

The investigator's eyes were wide and she swallowed her own curse as she leapt backwards a full two feet to keep from getting singed. Chichiri could hear Tasuki chortle over the popping of the wood.

When the fire had died, the bandit threw a mocking, fangy smirk towards the shaken woman, who met it with a livid glance.

"Jackass," she muttered, brushing bits of ash from her pants and scowling.

"Are you all right, Reina?" Chichiri inquired, feeling slightly guilty that he had been privately amused by the show.

"Yes." She replied shortly.

"I take it you are fostering a dislike for Tasuki."

"I don't know him well enough, but he does remind me of someone."

Her tone made it apparent that the matter wasn't up for questions or discussion. Chichiri took the hint and changed the subject.

"Where's Miaka? I saw her here just a moment ago."

"She wanted to take a walk on her own by the shore. Poor kid." She plopped down on the ground, further soiling her clothes, and Chichiri wondered why she had even bothered with cleaning the few spots of ash a moment earlier. "She's been through a lot."

"How is she?" He asked.

Reina furrowed her brow. "I'd say she's pretty torn up and trying hard not to show it. She seemed happy to hear about Ms. Hongo's involvement but she's upset at having to worry her mother."

Chichiri glanced sharply at her. "Will she be returning with you?"

"I gave her the choice, and she asked for time to think about it. And I wouldn't be in a hurry to return either if I were her, to be honest. They're going to try to lock her up again, you know."

"It's a difficult situation as I don't know how long Taiitsukun will allow her to stay here," Chichiri said quietly. "We never discussed it."

"Miaka also mentioned that name to me. Who is that?"

"The Controller of the Universe of the Four Gods."

"Ah, gotcha." Reina gave a short laugh. "Miaka knows some very important people."

Chichiri wasn't listening. "The miko always returns to her own world." He said distractedly. "Why would Taiitsukun send us to help Miaka unless she would be allowed the choice to stay? But why would she be able to stay now, and not before?"

"You're asking _me_?"

Reina's voice, slightly annoyed, pulled the monk from his musing. He offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I was mainly talking to myself, no da."

"Hey ya damn monk! Ya planning on sittin' around bein' useless, or are ya gonna give us a hand?"

As Tasuki's call rang out, the monk grinned. "That depends!" He responded, picking up one of the mallets from the pile and testing its weight. "Is your crew finished wrecking the place?"

"Well shit, they demolished yer whole house! What _more _can they do to it? " Tasuki laughingly pointed out. The bandits guffawed along with him, relieved that their boss had regained a semblance of good humor.

Chichiri was surprised to see Reina heft her own mallet and start towards the men. "What are you doing, no da?" he hurriedly asked, half worried she intended to brain his flame-haired friend.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, never breaking her stride. "They're rebuilding your house, right? Come on, we're wasting daylight!"

Chichiri considered pointing out that women didn't build houses, but thought twice and decided to keep quiet. For all he knew, in her world, perhaps they did. Miaka certainly hadn't let her gender keep her from anything she'd determined to do. Besides, if Reina were busy with wooden planks and mallets, perhaps she wouldn't notice him conferring with Tasuki regarding the miko. He waited until the newcomer was deep in conversation with Kouji- something about arches and support- before turning to his brother seishi to murmur, "Miaka's gone off on her own. You want to go, or should I?"

Tasuki stared down at his dusty boots before answering, "I'll do it. There's some stuff I need ta clear up with her anyway, an' it'll be easier without an audience." His head swung up just enough to glare in Reina's direction before studying his shoes once more.

_Avoiding my gaze_, Chichiri thought, and he would have been amused had his concern for Miaka not been overriding everything else. "Go on, then. She's down at the lake. I'll do what I can to keep Reina busy here, so you can have time to talk."

He reached out with his _ki_, and found that Miaka's presence was there, distressed, yes, but stable.

"You don't have to rush," he said in an offhand manner, knowing that Tasuki would understand what he meant. This wasn't going to be a repeat of Miaka's long-ago attempt to end her own life, and he was counting on his friend to make sure it stayed that way.

"All right, I'm goin', then. See if ya can't raise a few walls while I'm gone." Tasuki smirked as Chichiri waved his shakujō menacingly in the bandit's direction, then thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants and sauntered away, whistling.

The studied nonchalance in his stride didn't fool the monk one bit; he knew Tasuki only whistled when he was nervous. After murmuring a quick prayer for his friends, Chichiri turned his attention back to what remained of his cottage.


End file.
